These Tortured Souls
by Ecken
Summary: The Gilmore and Danes families merge, and all involved struggle to reconcile their past and futures. L:R:J, Jess' POV. COMPLETE, with a rewritten ending!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I thought I'd put down all these ideas on paper, finally. It's told completely from Jess' point of view and set in season 6, around Lorelei and Luke's wedding.

The whole diner moved their heads in unison towards the door as the former town hoodlum entered with an emphatic, "Jess!" from his uncle behind the counter. The bell on the door hadn't even finished ringing.

Jess nodded placidly and gritted his teeth as Luke walked towards him to give him a big hug. This "happy Luke" was scary. "Upstairs?" he asked, gesturing with his head towards the staircase.

"Oh, yea, sure, kid. I had most of the stuff moved into the new house, but I fixed it up enough for you to stay for a few days. How long are you staying? Just until the wedding? Have you seen your mother?"

The younger man put his hand on Luke's shoulder and commented slyly, "Chill with the 20 questions," before manuevering towards the upstairs apartment. He threw his well-travelled duffle bag unceremoniously on his old bed and waited for his uncle's footsteps to follow his up the stairs.

He didn't wait long. "You look great, Jess. You really cleaned up. I can't believe you're that same, sour kid who got off the bus four years ago."

Jess scowled and busied himself with unpacking. "Sentimental, much? What's gotten into you?"

"Me? Oh, nothing- I guess Lorelei's rubbed off some. And the wedding, you know. Stop packing for a minute and talk to me. I want to know how you've been. You look like you've finally moved out of that rathole of an apartment."

Jess did look better. His hair was cut neatly, more akin to what it had been when he first arrived in Stars Hollow. His clothes were less likely to be wrinkled. He had stopped smoking, and it was evidently a rare flash of a smile, or even a sarcastic grin. His eyes were no longer wild, tortured or pleading. Instead they carried comfort, confidence and maturity with his patented brand of sardony. This was grown up Jess, doing the grown up thing by coming to his uncle's wedding without the guilt trip previously required for his mother's. Luke had asked, so Jess had come.

"Yea, I moved out about six months ago. My girlfr- the landlord was a real ass, and I managed to find a job that could pay for an apartment without four other roommates. It's this tiny bookstore that sells mostly rare books. The proprietor's too old to run it now, so I do it." Jess conceded enough to talk to his uncle, but he wasn't about to sit down and have a heart-to-heart. Instead, he kept unpacking.

"That's great, Jess. Good for you. Your mother told me you were taking classes at a community college too. Does that mean you finally finished your GED?"

Jess wrinkled his nose at this. He wasn't mature enough to dislike where this was going. "Yea, I got my GED, but the classes, they're not big deal. I'm not going to get a degree for them, I'm just taking a few writing courses." Jess dropped the last of his clothes in the drawer. He had discovered when he moved into his new apartment that this process was easier and less painless when he bothered at least half-fold them. With nothing to do with his hands, and desperately hoping for a change of subject, he diverted Luke's attention to the wedding. "So, what are the plans for this week? I was planning on leaving Saturday, after the wedding. My boss had to hire a temp while I was gone."

"Tommorow, we need to drive into Hartford to pick up my tuxedo and make sure yours fits half-decently. Lorelei promised us lunch at the inn afterwards, for all the torture her mother's cronies will inevitably have us suffer through. After that you need to visit your mother. Thursday evening there's a family dinner at the new house, and the Friday morning is the wedding rehearsal. Saturday, of course, is the wedding."

Jess walked over the fridge, searching for alcohol at the mention of "family dinner." He pulled out a beer and sat down at the table with no comment from Luke. "Family dinner?" he questioned, skepticism visible on his features.

Luke shifted uncomfortably in his chair, mirroring his nephew's dislike. "Yea, Lorelei really wants to do it. It'll be low-key, Sookie, Jackson, your mother and TJ..." Luke shifted again, before moving on, "I don't think the elder Gilmores will show."

"And Rory?" Jess inquired with about as much stealth as his uncle displayed leaving her out, muffling the question with a swig of beer.

The man across the table just shrugged. "That's a tough situation. A lot has happened since you've been gone...I wouldn't worry about it too much."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I have reviews! Wow, that's so cool. You guys rock...My apologies about the last chapter. It was short, I know, but this one will make up for it. Also, Rory will make an appearance eventually but this story is not called "These Tortured Souls" because I am going to allow them to be gratified with even short, angry interactions. That and I wanted to ground a little bit in what I thought might happen if Jess came back.

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So Rory might not be at the family dinner for her mother's wedding? It was a 180 from everything Jess thought he knew about Rory, but he wasn't going to press his uncle for answers. He seemed uncomfortable enough mentioning it, let alone explaining what had happened to the town darling. _Fair enough_, Jess thought. He knew he'd find out eventually, whether he wanted to or not.

Luke took his leave shortly after, leaving Jess with the evening to himself in a town where there was nothing to do. He thought about helping out at the diner, but fielding questions from the crazy townies was not exactly his idea of entertainment. A book and the bridge, however, seemed sufferable, and he proceeded with the idea as quickly as it entered his head, craftily dodging the townies on the way out of the diner.

The bridge, like the rest of the town, hadn't changed. Despite years of fundraising, Taylor still hadn't made an intiative to get it fixed. Jess mused that Taylor kept it broken so that one rainy day, when he had nothing else to harp on his neighbors about, he'd have something to pull out of his sleeve.

Jess pulled a worn paperback of H.G. Wells short stories out of his back pocket. Inside, was one of his new favorites: "The Time Machine." He had never been one for sci-fi before, but Wells had the sort of humor he could appreciate. There was a sly rebellion in Wells that fell more in line with this older, more mature Jess. The rebellion of the Barney Rosset movement, the rebellion of art, content and style, the intense, in-your-face rebellion of authors like the Beats would always hold a fond place inside a heart he wouldn't admit he had, but it was no longer suited to him.

This new Jess reclined back on the bridge and tried to read, but in all its serenity, the place was distracting. There were too many memories here. Too many picnics. Too many early morning discussions. Beakings. Sudden swims. Last moments. It was the only place that meant anything to him in Stars Hollow, for no other reason than the memories and the people they invoked. Rory and, begrudgingly, Luke, had been the only people that meant anything to him during his tortured, fumbling adolescence.

_Of course, it always comes back to Rory_, Jess thought with a bitter smile. "And with that though, it's time to leave," he said aloud to himself and headed back to the diner.

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All heads immediately turned to Jess as he stepped in the diner door. "What are you looking at? You knew I was here already!" he grumbled, and (mostly) everyone proceeded to eat their dinner with only one eye on him this time. He picked up a few empty plates and headed back towards the counter when he slammed into Lane.

"Watch it!" Lane shouted as one of the plates fell out of her hand and clattered to the floor. She looked down at it and the delivered a condescending glare at Jess before marching back to the kitchen to reorder the plate with Ceasar. Jess was a little occupied sweeping the crumbs off his shirt to be concerned with any animosity Lane had sent his way, though.

Lane came back with a new table's order in her hand and to find Jess still in her way, albeit this time he was trying to clean up the mess that resulted from their collision. This did not impress Lane, who took the opportunity to be snarky again. "Jess, if you're not going to be useful, some of us need this job to eat so please get out of our way." Obviously, she had no reason to be pleasant today.

He picked up a floppy, ketchup-covered bun and slung it onto the plate with evident disgust. "Go around," he offered and made a gesture to the ketchup that the bun left behind. "I wouldn't want you to slip."

"You have no reason to take that tone with me. I work here and...you have no reason to be mad! If anyone should be mad, it's me. You ran into me and I had to replace that burger. And I don't need your help. If I want to walk through ketchup, I'll do it."

Jess thought her inecessant rambling invoked a tirade, punctuated by wild gestures unavailable by her full hands, that she bestowed on him when he first drove his car in town. He almost laughed, but didn't think it would be conducive to his face given the fact that he was crouched on the floor in such great kicking range. "Suit yourself," he relented, and took a few steps back, noting her caution as she stepped directly into the ketchup as if mocking him.

He picked up the last of the fries while she delivered the order and took up a few more. Taking up her suggestion to be useful, he filled a few coffee cups before taking all of the plates back to the sink. It was something he immediately regretted, spotting Kirk at his next table. Tight-lipped, he filled the coffee cup and tried to ignore the box of t-shirts in the chair next to him.

"Would you like to be a collectible 'Jess is back in town t-shirt.' It's available in stylish, rebel black for only fourte-" Jess gave him the look of death mid-spiel, but Kirk, after 'a hard swallow and a sound that most often uttered out of a pubescent boy, was no longer intimidated. "My therapist told me that I need to stop letting people have the upper-hand. You don't scare me anymore, Jess! You don't..." Jess swirled the hot coffee in the pot and looked at it like he was contemplating dumping it on top of Kirk. He was, and of course Kirk took notice. "Okay, you scare me," Kirk conceded and took a big bite of his hamburger. Mouth full, he mumbled, "Great burger. Give the chef my compliments," but Jess was already half-way back to the sink, craving a break from the insane asylum.

He wasn't granted much reprieve, though, because Lane was quickly echoing her less-than-polite "Get out of my way" request again.

"What's your problem?" Jess leaned comfortably against the sink, folding his arms to block her access of it.

"What's my problem? What's your problem, James Dean!"

Jess tried not to let his trademark smirk slip and attempted to adopt a genuine, caring, concerned manner. "No, really, Lane. Open up to me- I want to know what I did to make you so upset." The sarcasm betrayed him.

"Ohhh, don't you get smart with me, mister! I'm wise to you!"

Sighing, he tried harder this time. "Come on. I'm going to be here a few days. At least tell me what I did, and I'll throw you my tips."

Lane narrowed her eyes, clearly distrusting this spectre of a sincere Jess. "What you did! Like you don't know. And bribery! You're a clever one, but you won't win with me. Now step aside. There are customers waiting." She tried to reach around him to put the dish in the sink, hopefully resulting in a satisfying splash that would ruin that David Bowie-- she couldn't ruin a David Bowie shirt and faultered just long enough for him to snatch the plate out of her hands.

"Lane. Tell me. I really don't know."

"You don't know? You don't know?" Her anger waivered, as if she couldn't quite remember, and then it suddenly came to her. "You walked out on my best friend! You just left her without a word! You didn't call! And then you came back and shouted things at her and didn't let her get a word in! I mean, what is that? Don't you have any sense of decency?" At the end, she was incensed.

"Whoa, whoa...Lane, chill out. If Rory's over it, I think it safe to say that you can be over it too." He thought to chuckle, or do something to diffuse the intensity of the situation, but look on Lane's face was pure rage.

"Oh? And when was the last time you talked to Rory, huh, huh? You don't know how hurt she was! You don't know, mister! And the stupid things she did because of you!"

Jess was worn out with the exchange soon, and hoped a customer would complain so that Lane and he would have reason enough to end it without whatever dangerous resolution it was about to come to. "I'm sure you two were stabbing pins into a voodoo doll yesterday, lamenting my existance. And what stupid things because of me? Princess Rory doesn't have to take responsibility for herself? Please. Lane, move on. Do that whallow thing you chicks do, but move on. I have."

Lane suddenly got quiet. She whispered, "No, I didn't do anything with Rory yesterday." She said nothing for a moment, and Jess shuffled a foot awkwardly on the floor as she just kept standing there, as if the one day of silence was an ocean between her and Rory. "Or the day before, or the week before or the month before...I haven't talked to Rory in a long time. She just left without a word, didn't call!" Lane's voice started escalating to an almost intolerable pitch. She was mad, bitter, and showing it. Obviously, the previous tirade had nothing to do with him, either. " She came into town one day, acted very strange. She shouted 'Hey Lane,' to me and didn't let me get a word in! And then she was gone again! I mean, I heard she stole a boat, but nope- no call to her best friend! You'd call your best friend if you were in jail, right? I mean, if she can tell me about sleeping with Dean, why couldn't she tell me about stealing a boat? Usually, breaking up a marriage is something you keep secret, but what is she going to do to hide a stolen boat? A felony is on her record forever! The whole world can know about it! What's her problem? Doesn't she have any sense of decency?" Lane became quiet again and wiped something from underneath her glasses. "I shouldn't have..." she whispered, and walked quickly out, mortified.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Just when I thought I was going to get off with a simple thank you to the reviewers, it occurs to me that I have not put the appropriate disclaimer with the story. Well, from here on out, let it be known that I do not own these characters or this world. They belong to ASP. The the sequence of events I have presented, however, is mine.

And then it occured to me that there was a discontinuity involving the back of the kitchen. We'll just say that the sink is in a different place than the grill, where Ceasar would be, and he would just ignore the shouting if he did hear it (he didn't).Lastly, chapter 2 is not updating correctly so there are a few typos (classes, not glasses), but that should be fixed soon. Now, thank you reviewers! Much love.

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Lane's words had an impact. His breath slackened. His vision wobbled. His blood ran cold and his heart skipped a beat. Jess swallowed hard and felt himself torn between uncontrollable laughter and giving into increasing nausea, both probable results of the decreasing amount of oxygen his system was receiving. _Rory Gilmore stole a boat,_ he told himself. _Rory Gilmore broke up a marriage, _he repeated inside his head. These statements were shocking when they grounded themselves in truth. But it was _Rory Gilmore had sex with Dean _that finally drove him to the point of vomitting in a nearby trashcan.

Jess scowled, staring into the trashcan at what he had purged and tried unsuccessfully to spit the taste out of his mouth and the thought from his brain. He closed his eyes tightly and slid down onto the cold tile floor and leaned against the tall trashcan behind him. If a thought had drifted to Lane, he would have assured himself that she didn't have the courage to face him again.

This crumbling man slouched sloppily against a dirty trash can scrubbed his face raw with his dry, calloused hands. He shook his head violently in an attempt to clear his vision. He tried to convince himself that this hurt he was feeling was irrational. That he had moved on. That he had been happy without her. Successful without her. He had matured, lived and loved without her.

The sting was something Jess didn't comprehend consciously. His brain had not made the connection. Lane had been told about the affair. It hadn't happened in any recent timeframe, not as recent as the boat anyway. And Rory had done something stupid because of him. Lane had put the onus on responsibility on him. Lane had ranted about how he shouted things at her and ran off. She didn't mention his crazy proposal, but did she need to? Wouldn't that have been implied? The second worst of all his sins regarding Rory?

And then it clicked. It clicked and Jess gagged. Rory's reaction...it wasn't enough for her to reject him. He'll admit he deserved that, but this kind of vindictiveness? Was he delusional in thinking it might have been done to hurt him? He had imposed so much on her, and she had given him so much...Of course she would lash out! It wouldn't have been enough to say 'no.' She wanted to affirm it loudly and clearly.

Then, laughing ensued. Jess laughed at himself. He laughed Rory. He laughed at Rory, at the town, at the situation, at the his ridiculousness. There was no accounting for the time that had passed between his last visit and Rory's affair with Dean. Even if it had happened, they weren't together, so he had no right to be jealous, or nauseated. He had moved on too! Granted, his choice of partner was unattatched and therefore indicative of his intellect, but what's that kind of detail to someone with a sense of royal entitlement like Rory?

It was during this fit of hysterics that Lane finally ventured to wander back in, her eyes barely peaking over the top of the end of the dinner rush's mess. She stumbled over to the sink and dumped them all into the sink with glorious apathy. The resulting splash of dirty, food-dissolved water landed on the both of them, as Jess was just close enough to the sink, but Lane definitely took the brunt of the blow for her indifference. This pushed Jess into laughter that could warrant an insane asylum, and Lane, despite her previous mortification seemed unafraid to comment on his rudeness.

"Oh yea, it's real funny to you because you're not soaking in Kirk's dissolved toast!"

Jess only kept laughing, falling forward in an attempt to catch his breath as he wheezed out, "Dinner dishes! It's probably a patty melt!" He picked a piece of hamburger off of his shirt and rubbed into between his fingers to emphasize his point, tears welling up in his eyes.

"You should have your own act," Lane sneered, using superhuman will not to deliver some sort of physical pain his direction.

Finally, Jess managed to reign in his laughter and looked up at Lane with dizzy eyes. "Isn't it funny, Lane? The less you care, the bigger the...splash-back." _The story of my life, _he thought bitterly, cracking a wicked grin that betrayed his inner dialogue and stumbling to his feet, balancing himself with a hand on Lane's shoulder. He hesitated a moment, contemplating his next move as Lane tried to evade this unfamiliar gesture, but he held firm. _You don't want to know. You don't want to know. You don't want to know. You don't want to..._"When?"

"When what?" Lane snapped, finally succeeding in removing Jess' hand.

"When did she sleep with Dean? Was it right after I left?"

Lane started to back away, her voice softening, "I shouldn't have brought it up. I shouldn't have told you."

Jess grabbed her arm and pulled her back, gently, but firmly. "Lane. Tell me."

Lane wiped a wet lock from her forehead and bit the inside of her cheek. Breathing in deeply, she spilt it out quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, "TwodaysafteryouleftattheInnopening." She took in another breath, and the qualified it, "Although we all should have seen it coming. Dean and Lindsey were not exactly getting along and Rory was so vunerable because of you.They spent some time together. He rescued her from an awful night of bar hopping. Then you showed up the last time... It all collided in the worst way. She's hurt all of us, Jess, but I think it was just her way of getting over you...There was never a way for you to have found out to hurt for it."

Jess dropped her arm, giving a half-smile. "I was going to get married," he confesses. "I've been over Rory a long time. Long enough, anyway." Without another word, Jess abandoned the dirty kitchen and Lane, leaving them each alone with their thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: This chapter's a little weak, I'll admit it. There is better coming: Logan, Rory, Emily Gilmore.

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Jess was completely oblivious to his uncle's maneuverings around the apartment, not that he lacked practice in it. Luke fried a few eggs and some bacon, left to get some orange juice and then 'accidentally' let the door slam behind him on the way back in. He clattered plates and silverware, but Jess was dead to the world. The pre-eminent sleeping pills he had taken the night before after scrubbing himself of dissolved patty melt and Rory in the shower guaranteed it.

Eventually, however, Luke decided that at 10am, Jess had presumably recieved enough sleep and that waking him up for cold eggs was probably not going to win him any favors. He attempted several types to rouse his nephew, but the most successful attempt resulted in a tortured groan and Jess burying his face in his pillow deep enough to suffocate himself.

That was until Luke pulled out the classic pitcher of ice water.

"Rise and shine! We have to be in Hartford at noon to make sure your tux fits and I know how long it takes for you to do your hair."

Jess, impressively, brainstormed several forms of medieval torture even in his unwake state but had neither the will or mental capacity to execute them. So, instead, he plopped his face back down into the pool of water and ice that had manifested itself in his pillow. As this resulted in him nearly drowning, he resolved instead to throw the soaking pillow at Luke. He missed, but he rolled off the bed, with a thump on the floor, anyway.

"Good morning, sunshine!" quipped Luke sarcastically. This elicited only a sneer from Jess who practically crawled into the shower. An hour and a half later, he was eating cold eggs and bacon with lukewarm orange juice, desperately trying to focus on each individual task involved in eating. Scoop eggs. Bring fork to mouth. Chew. Chew. Chew. Swallow. Lower spoon. Rory. Scoop eggs. Mena. Bring fork to mouth. Dean. Chew. Chew. Chew like a dog gnawing on Dean's mangled...Swallow.

The ride to Hartford started quietly after Luke commented that Jess looked hungover. No, Jess informed him. This town just drove him crazy. It wore him out. Luke seemed to buy it, at least enough to keep the reggae down and refrain from chatting about the weather. Jess might have appreciated it if it hadn't left him alone with his thoughts, so he was conversation starter twenty minutes into town.

"I'm happy for you, Luke," Jess offered to break the silence. "I don't really understand why you'd want to marry into the Gilmore circus, but if that's what you want, I'm happy that you've finally got it."

"You've not done so bad yourself. Last night at the Twickham House, your mother dropped by. She was so excited to hear about how great you were doing that she wanted to come right over to the diner and hear about it herself. I told her to wait, so that you could see her house and have a few moments of sanity before this town started to sink in. I know how much you hate it here." Luke cleared his throat, pausing a moment before suggesting, "Maybe you should go see her this evening?"

Jess shrugged indifferently, channeling his adolescence. "I'll see her when I'm ready for it. If I go over too soon before I leave, she'll think it's okay to drop by a million times with TJ, and I'm not sure I can handle not punching that guy in the nose everytime he walks into the room."

Luke gave a short laugh and looked fondly at his nephew. "Yea, I understand that. Just don't skip out on her before the family dinner or else you'll be recieving TJ commentary with all Liz's personal questions."

Waving his hand indifferently, forgetting that he started the conversation for a reason, Jess dismissed it. "Yea, yea, I'll do it. No need to threaten me."

A few more moments of silence brought a few more thoughts of Rory. A few more than he could take, incidentally. Sure, stealing a boat and having an affair were pretty hefty things, but would Lorelei really shut her kid out for that? _No,_ Jess decided, _There had to be more than that._ And Luke would help him get to the bottom of it.

"I heard a few interesting things about Rory last night."

"Jess, really- you don't want to get involved in this."

"No, I'm already involved. Is she still with Dean?"

Luke tilted his neck to the side and popped it, before conceding to the question. "No, they didn't last very long," he started simply, and then quickly developed an increasingly ranting tone, "She's dating this Huntzberger guy now. The guy is a real piece of work from what Lorelei tells me. His dad is this huge newspaper mogul, and he said that Rory didn't "have it" to be a journalist so Rory ran off and stole a boat with Logan and then dropped out of Yale! Now she's living in her Gilmore's poolhouse, and Lorelei and Rory aren't speaking about it, and she might not even show up for her own mother's wedding! It's insane! That kid has done something to her. I mean, the Dean thing was bad, really bad, but she and her mother could get over it! Not with this klepto Huntzberger character, though, I'm convinced he has a hand in it and things aren't not going to be okay until someone talks some sense into that kid and Huntzberger leaves! But no, Emily and Richard Gilmore love the Huntzbergers. Sycophants!" Luke had clenched his fingers around the wheel so tight his knuckles made aspirin look tan. He exhaled loudly and tried to relax, but it was a few minutes before the color returned to his knuckles.

Jess stared at his uncle during his tirade, sorry to have brought it up until Luke practically spit "sycophant." He wouldn't dare laugh at a man who held his life in his hands while he was in such an unstable state, though. No, he'd just cough a snicker and absorb everything Luke had said.

The last 30 minutes to Hartford were still as death, each man occupied in himself. When they finally reached the 'boutique' Lorelei had picked out for them, Luke apologized for his explosion. Jess was quiet though, shoving his hands in his pockets and shrugging it off. He really had too much time to think lately. Why didn't he think to bring a book? Dante's Inferno seemed appropriate.

"Like I said, Jess," his uncle continued, "You really don't want to be involved. Between the wedding and my family and her family...Just do yourself a favor and stay out of it. Better yet, be my best man?"

Jess rocked back on his heels and nodded. "Yea, sure, just don't try to hug me."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Thank you, reviewers! Maybe you could help me, some? I had a hard time with the Emily/Lorelei exchange. Any constructive criticism (about anything, really) will be sincerely appreciated. As for "Will Rory and Jess get together?"- I hope it remains ambiguous. They both have a lot to overcome if it's going to work, but we'll see how it goes. ;) Their first in-person exchange should settle the probability, though.

Luke and Jess returned back at the Inn with two tuxes in the back seat. Fortunately for them both, Luke's tux was ready, and Jess' fit well enough that even Emily Gilmore wouldn't find scruple with it. The conversation on the way back was light as they joked about townies and commented on the unusually nice early-winter weather. It had been cold enough fo snow, but not enough snow to require shovelling, so it looked like Lorelei might get her white, winter wedding after all.

Forty-five minutes after they left the 'boutique'- men like Luke or Jess would never let such a word fall out of their mouths- they arrived at the Inn. Lorelei ushered them into the dining room and made sure Luke had plenty of hot tea, and for Jess, coffee. Afterwards, she continued to make rounds into the kitchen and to the front desk, with apologies to Luke and Jess, of course, and assurances that she would sit down and eat with them in "just a minute."

"Just a minute" had become fifteen when Luke finally put his foot down and caught Lorelei by the arm on her way back to the kitchen. "The Inn can run without you for half an hour. Sit down an eat with us."

Lorelei exhaled deeply and plopped herself down into the chair next to Luke. "I'm sorry, it's just that all this wedding business is starting to wear me out. Sookie doesn't know if she put enough flowers on the cake, Michel wants to know why the entire Inn is booked, even though it only looks like half a dozen rooms are occupied." Lorelei made a talking mouth with her hand, "Blah, blah, blah, blah..." she mimicked, and then put her hand in Luke's, "Are you sure eloping is out of the question?" She batted her eyelashes dramatically several times, for which Luke only issued a laugh.

"Lorelei," he punctuated her name by squeezing her hand, "We've been over this."

Lorelei nodded, issuing a sigh and then brushed a locked of hair out of her face before she picked up the menu. "Alright, boys. Sookie has an amazing stuffed chicken breast going today. The stuffing has garlic, olive oil, parsley...or, for Luke, you could have the poached salmon with the secret dill sauce."

Jess involuntarily made a face at the mention of 'dill sauce'. Lorelei noticed and started backing out of her chair, repeating the order, "Two chickens and a salmon then? And I'll have Serder bring you some more tea, Luke."

"No, you don't. Sit down. Serder will be around in a minute."

Lorelei almost pouted as she fell back in her chair, but the mood was fleeting. "So, Jess, what's been going on in your life?"

Jess rubbed his forehead, reluctant to answer any questions from this woman, especially vaguely personal ones. "Nothing, really," he dodged.

"He's being difficult. Lorelei, this kid finished his GED, is taking writing classes at a community college and managed to land (and keep) a job that pays him enough that he doesn't need to keep a roommate." Luke was obviously eager to brag about his nephew.

Now Jess was uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat a little and shrugged indifferently. "Look, it's not a big deal really. I'm just taking the classes to-"

"Jess, that's great. I'm really happy to hear that you've turned things around." Lorelei smiled genuinely at him, but there was a sad quality in it.

The smile was fleeting. The screeching, demanding tones of Emily Gilmore could be heard from the lobby and they immediately occupied Lorelei's attention.

She folded her arms on the table and dropped her head into them, defeated. The groan that the elder woman's voice elicited as it became louder and closer was followed by Lorelei explaining that this was the third time that week that Emily had come in about one thing or another. She was about to mock her mother, with what little sense of humor she had left about the situation, when the devil showed up in the dining room.

"Lorelei, we have to-" she spotted Jess, "What is that hoodlum doing here?"

"Give it a rest, Ms. Gilmore," Jess scoffed.

"You will not tell me to give it a rest! Lorelei, I demand an explanation! Why is this boy here? Are you trying to get him to run off Logan, because if those are your intentions..."

Jess scoffed at this too, but Lorelei did the talking this time. "Oh, please, mother. I do not resort to the same Machievallian tactics you do. Rory may be making bad decisions right now, but she is free to make them without my arm-twisting! If you want to run her off the same way you did me, that's fine!"

Emily threw her hands up into the air, "It always comes back to how controlling I am. How I am Hitler and Mousillini! Why is your daughter living with me, then? I must be brainwashing her! Fine, Lorelei, so be it! But if you think for two seconds I believe this boy is sitting here with you because..."

"Because, why, mother? He's Luke's nephew! There's nothing sinister about it!"

"Nothing sinister! The boy broke her arm, he wrecked her car- and Dean might not have been bright or cut out for anything, but he didn't show up to dinner with a black eye and then storm out! And Logan has been nothing but a charming gentleman, fit for a Gilmore!"

Jess grumbled inwardly and commented sarcastically to himself: _Don't you just love when they talk about you like you're not in the room? _He knew better than to speak up, though, and resigned himself to counting the bumps on the textured ceiling above him.

"Oh, I see. Accidents are unacceptable, but felonies are a reason to start prodding about grandchildren as long as he has enough money to throw at the problem!" Lorelei exhaled before continuing, "Just leave. You can't have anything worth saying."

"You will not talk to me like that, you lady. I am your mother and-"

"Mrs. Gilmore," Luke cleared his throat, finally speaking up, "I think it's time for you to leave."

--------------------------

Jess tapped the doorknocker twice. The white door had been recently painted white by a man with no sense of craftmanship. There were paint flecks on the glass window at the top of the door, and on the doorknocker. The idiot had even painted over the brass plating at the foot of the door. Jess was unimpressed, but unsuprised.

He didn't know why he was here. He didn't have anything to say to his mother. They were never going to have a great relationship, and he accepted that. But Luke had asked him, TJ, he knew, was out of town for a few hours, and if there was any day to clear himself of obligations to screwy mothers, today was it.

He took a deep breath and straightened his jacket hearing noise from behind the door and tried to put on a smile as his mother opened it and practically launched herself at him to give him a hug. "Oh Jessie, I'm glad you're here! Luke told me in town, and I wasn't sure when you were going to come visit me. He told me you're doing great, kid! Here, come sit. Lucky for you, I cleaned up the living room the other day. Oh, wait- don't sit there. I was sewing a new dress and I think there might be pins in it. Yea, right there, the couch is fine."

Jess allowed himself to be shuffled around the room by his mother before finally settling on the left side of the couch, the only place his mother could be sure there weren't any needles. She must have been talking about the right side, because he found three, but didn't mention it.

Liz sat herself down opposite of him and winced as she pulled a needle out of her leg. She stuck in into one of five, variously-shaped, pin cushions sitting on an end table next to the chair before beginning what Jess could only describe as an interrogation.

"I want to know everything, Jessie. Start talking."

Jess tried to refrain from scowling. He dreaded any direction this conversation could take. "There's not much to tell. I finished my GED, I've got a nice job, I'm taking community college classes." Jess gave a half-shrug, anticipating his mother's take-over.

"My kiddo's taking classes at college! What are you studying? English? I bet you'd make a great English teacher, or maybe a writer! Are you writing a book? You should write a book."

He shook his head. "No, I'm not working towards a degree, just taking a few writing classes."

"Then there are plans for a book! What are you going to write about?"

Jess folded his arms, and then unfolded them. He hadn't told anyone about it. He wasn't sure he wanted to. "It's nothing. I'm not even sure I'm going to send it anywhere. I don't really want to talk about it."

Liz leaned forward to scoot her chair closer and then fell back into it. "Alright, kid. I won't push. Tell me about your job! Luke said you work in a bookstore?"

Jess merely nodded.

"And the girl? You've been gone for more than a year- I know there's been one."

Jess sighed and nodded. He didn't really want to think or talk about what had happened with Mena, but if he had to tell anyone about her, it might as well be his mother. She would push until she found out anyway. "Yea, there was one. We parted ways about a month ago, though. It was a sudden, I don't really understand what happened."

"Aww, I'm sorry. What was her name? Was she nice? Pretty?"

Jess gave a slight smile at the thought. "Mena," he recalled, "And she was beautiful: wild red hair and bright green eyes. It wasn't love, but she was special."

"And she just left? That's too bad. I would have liked to have met this Mena who can make my Jessie smile." Liz smiled herself, sincere affection evident in her eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Let there be Logan!

After the visit with his mother, Jess had experienced more of the town than he cared to re-live. Of course, the madness never ended, and Luke asked him to help Lane out at the diner so that he could finish some last minute repairs to the house before he and Lorelei moved into it. Jess might have minded, but Al's Pancake World had lowered their prices that evening so low that it was worth the inevitable food poisoning the next day to eat there. As a result, the diner had been empty with the exception of Brian and Zach for the majority of the evening. It was almost closing when a paying patron dropped in.

The man was of average height, blond and about Jess' age. He was overdressed for anything but an accountants convention, and seemed to have his cellphone permanently affixed to his ear. Jess was, naturally, unimpressed and a little suspicious. If he hadn't been worn out by earlier events, he might have been difficult and enforced the 'no cellphones' sign.

Jess dropped the rag he was using the wipe the counter down as he approached. The blond flashed a smile and held up two fingers, "Two coffees to go, please." Jess was in the process of turning around to see that the coffee pot was empty when the order was qualified. "What was that, Ace? 10 coffees?-- Hey, could you make that ten, not two?"

Jess was staring at the empty coffee pot, trying to find the will to search for more coffee to fill it, let alone comprehend a request for _ten cups of coffee,_ when Lane rushed to his side. "Oh, Jess," she enunciated dramatically, "We're out of coffee at the front. You'll have to help me pull it down from the shelf in the back because I'm too short." She turned to the blond and smiled herself, "It'll be a few minutes, but it'll be two fresh pots just for you."

Lane practically jerked Jess into the back where she pulled a business-sized coffee can off a perfectly reachable shelf. "Who else do you know that would send an overdressed yuppie into Luke's for ten cups of coffee? Huh? Only Rory! And, he called her "Ace!" Rory told me once that she did that. It was one of the only things she told me about him, so it was hard to forget. Oh, well, there was the sex talk in front of the books, but you don't need to hear about that...God, please help me stop rambling." Lane glanced up at the ceiling and then back down at Jess.

He stared blankly at her a moment. _How upset would Luke be if I skipped the wedding?_, he asked himself, before responding, "Okay, it's Logan. What do you want me to do about it?"

Lane matched his stare, hers more incredulous, "What do you mean, 'what do you want me to do about it?' He's on the phone with Rory!"

"And...? Look Lane, I'm only in town for the next two days. If there's something you want to say to Rory, then you talk to him. I've had enough Princess Rory for today, and any of a million days after it."

Lane was visibly put out by the apathetic response and stormed out. When Jess finally followed, she was angrily filling the coffee pots, spilling grounds all over a counter he had just cleaned and onto the floor. Summoning the last of his will, he managed to pry the can away from her, "Lane, just go sit down. I'll do it."

"Lane?" Logan inquired, and the girl narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him.

"It depends on whose asking. What do you want?" Lane bit hostily.

Logan extended his arm, phone engaged and in his hand. "Rory would like to speak with you," he replied with an attempt at a placating smile.

Jess had just turned on the coffee pots to brew and leaned back against the counter to see Lane snap the phone shut and direct a finger towards him. It was actually next to him, "No cellphones in the diner," she explained and handed the phone back with cold civility before sitting back down with Zach and Brian.

"Dude, that was not rock-and-roll, Lane. You don't hang up on your best friend like that," Zach scolded.

"Oh, you don't? And who are you to talk, huh? You live with your best friend! I'm lucky if mine can be bothered to talk to me for five months!" Lane inhaled deeply and loudly through her nose before taking off her apron and slamming it onto the table. "Jess! I'm leaving!"

And she did, leaving the four men to stare at her. "I think we better go to," Brian offered after a moment of awkward silence, and then he and Zach followed Lane out.

"Do I want to know what that was about?" Logan asked with a skeptical laugh.

"No." Monotone man had returned.

There was absolute silence in the diner for a solid three minutes before the first coffee maker click off. Jess turned around to fill the first five coffee cups when Logan's phone rang again. Jess gave a half-laugh, "I guess you didn't learn your lesson the first time," he said mostly to himself, and if Logan heard, he didn't acknowledge it.

"Yea, Ace.---No, she's gone now. It's just me and- what did you say your name was again?"

_I guess the first two times Lane announced it, he was completely oblivious._

"Ceasar." The name was flat and exhausted. He slid second three coffee cups on the counter, and on hearing the second coffee maker go off, quickly filled the last five.

"He said his name was Ceasar--Well, no he doesn't have an accent--Or a baseball cap--"

Jess quickly stacked the last of the coffee onto the front counter. "It's Jess, okay? It's Jess and you can tell her I've moved on. I've moved on and I have no desire to see her, talk to her, or otherwise hear about her, nor do I care enough to be bothered to avoid her. You can tell her that I will be nice and civil at the family dinner if she shows up, and if she wasn't planning on it, she's a self-important bitch and needs to learn that she is not the center of the universe. Now please, leave so I can close up."

Logan looked confused about everything except his decision to not repeat the man's diatribe back to his girlfriend. Instead, he ignored it. "Mind if I make a few trips out?"

Jess slid him a tray and managed to fit all the cups onto it. "Yes, I do. Now leave."


	7. Chapter 7: The Family Dinner Part I

A/N: These next three are for the reviewers, because they should be dedicated to someone. They're each a little short, but I felt like there should be chapter breaks. Anyway, enjoy!

It was four o'clock the next afternoon before Jess woke up, but he had an ominous pulling in his gut that even that 12+ hours of sleep he had received weren't going to prepare him to deal with a hell of a family dinner at the Twickham House. Everything about the situation screamed conflict and Jess was in no hurry to participate after a marathon of mothers and the late-night diner scene the night before.

Jess showed up at exactly six, expecting to have nothing more to do than sit down in his designated seat, eat silently and try to endure TJ for about an hour and a half before he could be reasonably excused. The women, of course, had other plans and he was designated to set the table. It was a simple enough task intially: one plate, one fork, one knife, one glass, one napkin for each of the nine guests, of which he immediately identified the seven. Lorelei changed her mind, seeing the table, though, and hand him pull out four forks, two knives, three spoons, two glasses, and three plates, and two bowls for each person. Not only did he have to engineer for them all to fit, but they all had to fit in the way Lorelei designated. By the time Sookie started to bring out dishes, it was too much, and Lorelei had him put the majority of it away.

Luke, however, had the delightful task of "fixing" a chair that didn't appear broken. Jackson stood around in the kitchen and pretended to be helping with the vegetables, and TJ was so useless that no one expected him to do anything more than stand around a be a nuisance, of which he was one, of the supreme order, to Jess, the entirety of the table fiasco. For lack of a better word, he felt like a neophyte.

Jess excused himself from the dining room when Liz and Lorelei came in to discuss the arrangement of the dishes and the centerpieces. Following the sound of a television, he managed to find the living room and Luke, who had since finished "fixing his chair." The women and TJ could still be heard in the background, but relatively speaking, it was a moment of peace, and the only one he expected to get for the rest of the night.

"Sorry, Jess. I really thought they were going to have dinner on the table at six or I would have warned you not to come until seven," his uncle offered without glancing away from the baseball game on the television screen.

Jess gave a one shouldered shrug and leaned heavily on the far arm of the couch, not that interested in the baseball. "I've learned my lesson." There was a pause, filled by the sports announcer and a half-intelligable conversation about whether to put all three types of potatoes on one part of the table, or spread them out. "Who is coming tonight?" he asked hesitantly, "Lorelei had me set out nine plates."

"The seven of us, and Lane and Zach, although Lorelei said that they might not make it. Apparently there's something with the band and Mrs. Kim."

"Lane and Zach? I thought this was a family dinner."

"Lorelei rambled something about her knowing Lane from the time she was two and needing to feed starving artists..." Luke shrugged himself, still staring at the screen.

The answer didn't satisfy Jess. From what Luke had told him previously, Rory's appearance would be just as ambiguous as Lane's, and yet Lorelei has a place set for the latter, and not her own daughter? He wasn't going to pretend he understood the current dynamic between the mother and daughter, but nothing about the way it was being handled at dinner seemed correct. Aside from this, though, Jess wasn't going to give two thoughts to Rory. He convinced himself that he was ambivalent about her arrival, although, he hoped for the sake of everyone that she would come, and be the Rory everyone loved. If he take a few days out of his life for Luke, Rory could swallow her pride for her mother. _Self-righteous, Mariano?_ he chided himself after the thought, but immediately tossed it away.

At about fifteen until seven, everyone was called in to sit around the table. It was circular and formally decorated with white iris centerpieces and black napkins below clear, glass plates. Sookie had arranged everyone in (mostly) boy-girl order, so he had Lane to his left, followed by Zach, TJ, Liz, Luke, Lorelei, Jackson and then back to Sookie, who was on his right. Cleverly arranged, if Lane and Zach were going to show up. He could talk music with Lane and Zach while the rest of the family chatted about the Inn or Liz's tour on the Renn Fair circuit.

The tapping of a fork on a glass focused their attention when they all finally settled into their designated seats. It was Liz, standing and raising her glass. "It felt like an occasion to toast- To my brother, for finding his personal Holy Grail, to Lorelei for making my brother incomprably happy, to two families joining together, and to Sookie for preparing this beautiful meal for us to unite together with."

Each person lifted their glasses to toast and had their drink before the three types of potatoes, two types of chicken, the ham, and assorted vegetables began circulating. They had just begun to fill their plates when the doorbell rang.

Jess' heart skipped a beat.

Lorelei excused herself to answer the door.


	8. Chapter 8: The Family Dinner Part II

A/N: I apologize ahead of time for any typos, I just really wanted to get this up because I won't have any time to tommorow. Plus, it really is mean for you to have wait to find out that all your hopes and dreams for this dinner are false, because even though I warned you in Ch. 1 that Rory wasn't going to be there, you still kept on hoping...Or am I being facetious?

Jess swallowed hard, but didn't let his distress let on as Lorelei spent longer and longer in a foyer just far enough away that no semblance of noise could be heard. He let his plate collect food as long as dishes were going around, but once they stopped, he had no appetite, and would have none until the identites of the final guests were known. This, however, was unlikely to be appetizing news in any case. Lane and Zach would confirm his worst suspicions about Rory. Logan, however, would almost inevitably accompany Rory, and that was in no way conducive to consuming even Sookie's food, either.

He pushed the food around on his plate and took a few bites as Sookie, if anyone, would notice if he wasn't eating. The experience of it, though, was nauseating and he glanced at Sookie to see if she were in any position to notice. She, however, seemed just as anxious as him to find out who their guests were, and upon closer inspection, so did everyone else at the table except the oblivious TJ. He set his fork down and affixed his glass to his hand, attempting to be sly in his nearly constant glance towards the hallway.

Eventually, soft footsteps against the hardwood flooring could be just barely heard over the noise of TJ chewing. Jess caught Sookie fish something out of from underneath the tablecloth but before he had time to question it, the first voice was heard.

"This is a lovely home you have, Ms. Gilmore." It was a male voice, familiar, and definitely not Zach's. The sound caused Sookie to back out of her seat quickly, snatch up the Lane and Zach cards and quickly replace them with Rory and Logan, respectively. Jess stopped remembering to breathe.

And then they came in. Lorelei, her face plastered with a fake, tense smile, followed by Rory with a similiar expression, and then Logan, hands nested firmly in his pockets bearing a grin Jess might have had the notion to slap off had he noticed anything but Rory after she entered the room.

Every bone in Jess' body ached just looking at her. It was easy enough to distance himself emotionally and intellectually when he was physically apart from her, but now, with her standing there...His pulse raced. His bones screamed longing. The jealousy lit up his eyes. The anger fueled the passion.

But if she had seen him, she didn't acknowledge it.

"Rory, everyone, and her company, Logan." Lorelei introduced. She went around the table, naming each of the other guests before directing them to their seats.

The situation could not have been manufactured more poorly. There was no way he could avoid her. The table was just big enough to hold all nine chairs as long as the a persons' neighbors were unafraid to rub shoulders with them. He would have to pass her bowls, butter dishes and rolls. He didn't have to look at her, but her presence would be inescapable. The only thing remotely comforting about the situation was that Logan was now sitting next to TJ.

The table was quiet except for a few requests for the passage of food so that Logan and Rory could fill their plates. Most of them, fortunately, passed through TJ, who had a comment for everything that travelled through his hands.

"Ma'am," Logan indicated to Lorelei, "could you please send the rolls this way? My compliments to the chef-" he delivered that saccharine smile that just begged for a bloody lip, "They're wonderful."

Sookie giggled and matched his smile, "Thank you, Logan! My secret is just a little bit of sugar and to mix them very lightly. It keeps them from becoming too gelantinous." If Jess' appetite could have been any worse, the "gelantinous" comment might have sent it down the spiral just a little more.

The basket reached TJ's hands and he held it out for Logan to take his roll from it, "I wish my old lady could cook like that one. Not that she can't cook, her food is edible most days, unlike my last wife. Have you ever been married? I've been married three times. The first lady, she could cook alright, a lot like Liz here, but she was insane. A complete whackjob. The second woman was a nut too. She liked to hit the booze, if you know what I mean, and she couldn't boil water to save her life- not that I know how to either, but she's a woman, you know? None of them, though, are as great as my Lizzie. She's the best in bed too."

Logan chuckled goodnaturedly as Luke and Jess both dropped their forks with a clatter onto their plates. Jess spoke up first, "Geez, man! That's my mother!"

"I'm just telling it like it is, kid." TJ shrugged.

The conversation continued stop and go in short, uncomfortable bursts for half an hour when Sookie finally spoke up. It was a sudden, sound-shatter, "Ohh! I almost forgot!" before she shuffled out of the room and came back with what looked to be a photo album.

"Since this is a family dinner, I thought I'd present this to all of you, even though Jackson and I are here and we're really not family. But anyway, for you all." She held the book out for Lorelei to take, who couldn't contain the curiousity written on her face. "It's a photo album of all you. There are a bunch of baby pictures, wedding photos and some other momentos from crazy happenings.

Lorelei sat with the book in her lap and Luke watched over her shoulder as she flipped through it, pointing and commenting only to him at various points. Pointing and commenting until she erupted it riotous laughter. "No way, Liz, did baby Jess have a mohawk!"

Rory couldn't seem to resist this either and piped up, "I want to see!" to which Lorelei, without hesitation, agreed to and displayed the picture to the entire table.

Liz laughed from the bottom of her stomach. "Oh, Jessie, you don't remember that? You must have been four. I can't believe you put that in there, Sookie!"

"How could she not," Luke commented in his gruff voice, "It's proof Jess was a punk, even back then."

"Ha.Ha. Give me that," Jess half-demanded, and Lorelei, already on the last page, passed it over the table to him. He stared down at the picture of himself, half-amused.

"Oh! Oh! It was Crazy Bill!" his mother recalled.

"The crack dealer?" Jess inquired, incredulous that he would let that dirty, old man touch him.

"Yea, yea, him. He used to come over on Sundays, don't you remember? Ten years this guy would drop by, every Sunday. He's the one who gave Jess the mohawk."

Jess gave a little shudder and continued to flip through the album, overly conscious of the fact that Rory was looking over the shoulder. Two pages later, entitled "FIASCOS," was the chalk outline of the "dead" body he had drawn outside of Doosie's and then perimettered with the crime scene tape.

Rory reached her finger down to the picture, spotting it at the same time he did, and spoke up. "How'd you get the picture of the crime scene? That looks like a police photo."

"Oh! It is," Sookie giggled, "I was hunting around town for those last few pages, and Kirk said he might be of some assistance. Apparently, he was taking photos for the police department awhile, and that one was in his "portfolio." There are pictures from the protest, too, on the next page! And Jess' car!"

"Devil-egged?" Rory asked innocently, to which her mother responded with a giggle.

"I knew it!" Jess looked up at her and made eye-contact. It was disorienating, but aware that the volume of his voice had already drawn attention to him, he proceeded with his accusation as soon as he realized he was hesitating. "You two did it! No one else would have been that juvenile!"

"Who, us?" Lorelei batted her eyelashes and feigned inculpable. "We would never do such a thing."

"You devil-egged someone's car, Ace? I never would have thought you had it in you."

"Don't look at me. I didn't do it!"

"Oh yea," Jess' voice had adopted playful, mock hostility, "Then how did you know the eggs were cooked, let alone devilled? I didn't want to get within 100 feet of that car, it smelled so bad! You did it! Give it up, Gilmore."

Rory coyly pushed the food around on her plate, directing a conspiratorial glance to her partner in crime and then a warm smile towards Jess. His breath caught in the back of his throat, something he forced himself to quickly swallow so that he could return the smile.

"Let me see that," she requested, and Jess slid the book over to her. The light contact of their fingers was maddening.

She flipped to the front, revealing pages he had yet to see and set the book, like Jess had done, in her lap so that Logan could see it also. Through the front were various pictures of Luke and Lorelei, a page of her grandparents, and photos from Rory's childhood. Logan and Rory bantered about pictures of tu-tus and glittery, fairy wings that Rory and Jess had long since been over.

The awkwardness, as a result, was quick to return, especially when the "couples" pages appeared. One for Rory, divided in half with assorted pictures of Dean on top, and a "to-be filled" post-it note and a photo of Rory dancing in a suit with Logan.

The next page was devoted entirely to the two of them. The implications were something even Logan could probably see, and Jess thought now might be the time to make his exit, but Rory wouldn't have it.

"I didn't know anyone took pictures at the dance marathon," she said to Sookie and traced her finger over a picture of her and Dean. She was half asleep in her arms, her face twisted into a determined ramble.

Jackson retorted, almost a little bitter, "Those are twenty-four hours I'd like to forget."

Sookie looked nervously at her husband and gave an anxious giggle. "Oh, stop it, Jackson. Everything worked out fine."

"For you! I'm the one with who had the scissors taken to me."

Lorelei smiled at the pair and squeezed Luke's arm. She whispered something into his ear that caused him to smile, and then she addressed the table. "But Luke fixed my shoe, and even though Kirk won, I still found the opportunity to steal his trophy." The grin on her face was perversely naughty and completely unsuitable for anyone's mother.

"And Rory stopped playing mind games, at least for that occasion." Jess added. The words fell out of his mouth, and he wished there were some way to shove them back in. He regretted the comment before he finished speaking it. Fortunately, it was just audible enough for his immediate neighbors to hear.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rory whispered angrily to him.

"You heard me," Jess bit. Truthfully, the comment was out of line. He was probably blowing the Dean thing out of proportion, but the confrontation was there, and he wasn't about to back down. "Look, we're not going to have this out here. If you want to fight, we'll take this outside."

"You will not dictate what I will and will not do." The volume of Rory's voice escalated, attracting Logan's suspicious attention. "If you have something to say to me, this is just as good of a place as any."

"No, it's not," Jess matched her tone, "This is not about you, Rory. This is about your mother and Luke, and there is enough tension in the room because of you. I am not going to add to it. If you really want to get into it, we'll go outside, but right now we're going to eat and be pleasant."

"Oh, aren't you full of it, making a comment like that and then speaking down to me like you're not going to add to tension that's "all my fault." Fine, we'll take it outside. Right now!"

Rory backed out of her seat and stood up, waiting for him to do the same. Jess stared at her like she was the dumbest person alive, "What, now? In the middle of dinner? For all the fuss your grandparents make about manners and polish, you obviously haven't acquired any!"

By now, the whole table was watching, but Jess couldn't have really cared less until Logan felt the need to add his two cents. "Hey, I don't like the way you're talking to her."

"This is none of your business," Jess snapped at him and the pushed himself out of his own chair. "Let's go!" he commanded, and the pair stormed out, with a quickly apology to Logan from Rory, silent and steaming all the way to the backyard.


	9. Chapter 9: The Family Dinner Part III

A/N: I'm sorry to report that updates won't be as quick as they were previously. I'm gong to try to write as much as I can this weekend so that updates will be at least a regular one to two days, but school is going to tax my time.

The backyard of the Twickham House was a hill that fell from east to west and dipped slightly south so that the lowest point was at the base of some stairs coming off the porch. Luke had recently sodded it, so the grass was lumpy under Jess' feet. For some reason, he found the situation strangely disorienting. It may have just been the lack of oxygen, though, that resulted not only with his proximity to Rory Gilmore, but the anticipation of the fight. A fight that could resolve problems, or drive the wedge deeper.

Either way, Jess tried to pretend like it was of no consequence to him, and Rory appeared to be trying to convince herself much of the same, but she was always a bad liar. She did care, and a look of hurt had veiled her features.

He could see all of this because they just stared at eachother at the base of the hill. Jess' hands shoved into his pockets, matching a cold gaze to Rory's one of turmoil. Were there any words for what they had to say?

How could Jess convey the love, the anger, the frustration and disappointment? He felt like Mr. Knightley about to chide the oblivious Emma for her snide remark to Miss Bates. He hated that it was an Austen reference.

Finally, Rory spoke. It was a small voice. "Jess, you have to stop coming back like this."

"I didn't come here for you," Jess matched evenly.

"It doesn't matter, Jess! You're here, it hurts and it's distracting!" Rory's voice escalated and Jess could feel the screaming match looming over the corner. Giving in was his only option.

"I'm not going to apologize! What would you have me do? Skip Luke's wedding?" Jess scoffed, "You don't dictate my life!" He punctuated his words, pointing at her and at the ground. "And if you think you're the only one suffering for me being here, you're more selfish than I ever anticipated! This is not easy for me either!"

"And who are you to get on MY case about being selfish? How many times did you ride into town just to vanish again? You didn't call! You didn't talk to me! I could have helped you, Jess! I wanted this to work, but you only want me when you can't have me!"

Her use of present tense was ominous. Could she see right through him, or was she projecting?

"Oh, here it comes. Are you going to stone me afterwards, or do I get time to reflect on my crimes first? Please, Rory! It's been more than a year since I last saw you, and three since this was over. I'll admit neither were my finest moments, or any of the ones in between, but I haven't though about you since. I'm over this and you, Rory! I'm done! I have a life, and a job, and school, and family and a girlfriend! You could be so lucky to have a life like mine now that you've thrown yours away to commit felonies with that yuppie!"

"What do you know about it, Jess? You're one to talk, and you don't even know him! So I'm not perfect, anymore. I never was! I'm sorry to shatter your illusions about me!"

"It's not even about that, Rory. Take a year off from school, sort yourself out, do something forgivably stupid, but don't push away the people that love you and treat them like crap just because they have to audacity to question your judgement. And steering clear of felonious activity might not be such a bad idea either!"

"From Jess Mariano! This is priceless! Would you say it into a tape recorder? Or put it in writing? I'd like to hear it again!"

"Grow up, Rory! I've made mistakes, but at least I can own them."

Rory just bristled and started to walk away, but Jess caught her arm and prevented her from leaving. The resulting shocks were intoxicating, and he couldn't help put to pull her closer.

She stepped towards him, submitting to the decreasing proximity. Their eyes met, already falling heavy with anticipation. "Jess," she whispered nearly inaudibly, her lips milimeters from him. Jess had never been more disoriented in his life.

"Rory," he whispered back. He could feel Rory shudder as they met in the middle, each held captive by the other; arms entangled, fingers tugged to close even the smallest distance. It was a kiss of "I'm sorry," and "I missed you," that exchanged tortured longing between them.

But so much had been left unsaid. The simplicity was fleeting, evolving into anger-fueled passion that demanded to know "Why?" Rory's nails clawed at his back, inflicting a fraction of the pain connected to his numerous departures. The sensation shocked Jess, but nevertheless, elicited a groan into her mouth. The kisses were more forceful now, almost attempts to bruise, but Jess would be no more slave to her, than she to him. They stumbled backwards, Rory's back falling into the brick wall before he collided with her, anxious to close the gap between them.

The metaphor was misleading. Jess knew the Rory in front of him was not the Rory he fell in love with. This was an imposter-Rory who would hurt her friends, abandon her family, break up a marriage, lose her ambition and steal a boat. He had expected her to change, but not like this. Imposter-Rory was not a woman he could love, and Jess was desperate to coax the real Rory, whatever her mistakes, out from behind the imposing shadow. Two hands snaked into the tendrils of her hair guiding her and attempting to draw out the lost Rory.

Immediate effiorts were futile. Their fervor fell into frustration. There was no place for it to go. Kisses ebbed and Jess could feel a telling wetness against his cheek. They pulled away, Rory still against the wall, but Jess a step back. He was unafraid to look at her, but she couldn't seem to look at him.

"Jess...I'm happy with Logan." Her voice cracked and Jess felt like someone had hit him in the stomach with a baseball bat. Was it her pain, or his rejection?

He swallowed, unwilling and unable to find the strength to do anything more than nod and let her walk away.

----------

Jess only walked back inside after he had heard Rory and Logan drive away. He made a point to get his coat out of the foyer before he returned to the dining room, unwilling to stay and talk a second longer than necessary.

"I'm going to head out. I'll see you all tommorow."

The look of pity that eminated off of each one of them was intolerable.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Please be patient with this chapter and the next one. I know this story is mainly for Literati shippers (although a Sophies outcome is not out of the question), so it will be frustrating to see something that doesn't fit into the classic Jess-or-Logan dichotomy. But, this is an important step in making sure all the characters are ready to make the necessary decisions. Also, thank you to the reviewers. Your support is makes this story worth writing.

The wedding rehearsal was mercifully uneventful and Rory-less, even if it was at the unholy morning hour of eight. She had disincluded herself from the wedding party early on and due to events unrelated to Jess. He would be walking Sookie down the aisle.

Luke had made several attempts to talk about what happened at family dinner with him, but he remained tight-lipped about it and his affinity for monosyllables that afternoon prevented anyone else from even approaching him.

Jess, flatly, didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. All he wanted to do was fullfill his obligations and leave.

After the rehearsal, Jess returned to reclusive behavior and hid in Luke's old apartment. Reading allowed his mind to wander too much, watching television made him disgusted with humanity, and working in the diner felt like masochism. So Jess chose tortured slumber over tortured consciousness and willed himself to sleep with a couple of sedatives that would repress any subconscious wanderings. The whiskey he washed them down with was just insurance.

Sometime later, after his self-medication had worn off, he heard a knocking at his door. The resulting "Go away!" didn't discourage his visitor, who obviously wasn't Luke or they would have known to just come in. Only he had ever locked the door, anyway.

The visitor didn't identify him or herself and ultimately went away. By the time they knocked again, Jess was blissfully hovering in that place just before sleep, where everything is a combination of reality and imagination. This time, the dreamy haze prevented him from responding.

He vaguely heard the door creak open and feet shuffle towards him. The footsteps stopped, perhaps behind him, but he had yet to see his visitor. It wasn't until he heard the bottle of Jack Daniels picked up and set back down on the nightstand he faced away from that he could identify his or her location.

"Jess," a voice whispered, identifiably female. Hands gently rocked him from side to side, trying to rouse him. He grabbed at one of the hands and shoved it off, falling into consciousness.

"Jess," it implored, a little more desperate. "I need you to wake up. I need to know how many of these pills you took. Jess, wake up." The hands were persistent.

He growled, fully awake for brief seconds, "Two, fourteen hours ago," and snatched a pillow off the floor and shoved it around his head. He hoped 'she', whoever 'she' was, would go away. He wasn't even going to identify her. He was done with this town with the exception of standing at the altar with Luke. A bus was waiting for him immediately after: forget the reception.

The weight on the mattress shifted, accomodating 'her' as she sat down next to him. Jess wondered if it would be too aggressive to smack her, regardless of who she was, in the face with his pillow. Better judgment, and a lazy arm, decided against it.

"Jess," she whispered again, and the weight shifted as if she was lying down on her side. One arm slide up his back to wrap around his stomach, and fingers delicately caressed his abs and pushing his shirt up. "Jess," the voice continued before planting kisses on an exposed shoulder. A second hand led a finger to trace his spine and he involuntarily shuddered.

The gesture was unmistakable. He knew who she was and allowed her to push the pillow off his head. Butterfly kisses outlined his jaw and he shifted onto his opposite side to meet her mouth, unwillingly to open his eyes. He had expected this to come; her goodbye, an explanation. Just not now.

He cradled her neck with one of his hands and rested the other innocently on her hip. They continued their exchange of kisses for a few final moments. She started to pull away, but he held her close.

"Jess," the voice gently chided.

"Just a few more minutes, then we can talk." There was a pleading quality in his voice, so she remained. They both fell into sleep shortly afterwards.

----------------

The hour was painful despite the excessive amount of sleep he had recieved the day before. The space next to him was warm, but empty and Jess could only manage a whine as he struggled to put the pieces together.

"Lane brought us up breakfast. Apparently she brought you up food last night, too." Jess' eyes opened just enough to see a hand pick up the note for emphasis and then point to the burger. "Jess-," she began to read, "I'm sorry about the dinner. I'm here if you want to talk (and I know you won't), but here's something to eat in case you get hungry later. -Lane...She's a nice chick, although nosy. I had to answer a dozen questions to get up here last night. I guess she was closing."

Jess saw her lips move into a delicate smile, and then caught a glance of those vivid green eyes. He was too groggy to read into them, though.

"Come on, Jess. Get out of bed, have something to eat and we'll talk. I'm not rescheduling my flight twice because of this."

He reluctantly conceded and managed to get himself out of the bed and into one of the chairs at the table. "So you're taking the job in Seattle, then?" The question was casual and nonchalant. Truly, it didn't matter if she was leaving. He had expected her to have taken the job already, to be honest.

She slid the breakfast in front of him, transfered from the styrofoam carton to a plate she had fished out of the cabinet. It wasn't until he saw the food in front of him that he recognized how hungry he was. He figured it was a good excuse for her to do all the talking, all the explaining, anyway, if his mouth was constantly full.

"Yea. I figured if there was ever a time to do it, it was now." Jess couldn't even begin to understand the double entendre that was about to reveal itself in her words. He figured it only pertained to him. She wanted to start over; new life, new job, new boyfriend.

Jess merely nodded, shovelling a spoonful of eggs into his mouth. What was he supposed to say to that, anyway?

"I'm sorry I left like I did. Can I blame the hormones?" She chuckled softly, although the expression on her face gave it away as distinctively nervous, if not a little afraid.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jess managed between bites, a little more bitter than he intended.

"I was pregnant, Jess."


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Meet Mena! You'll remember from Chapter 5 that she is Jess' former girlfriend whom he had lived with but, without explanation, disappeared a month or two previously. She's gentle, but strong, and I think, a great 'transitional' girlfriend. Anymore questions, reviewers? ;) I hope you like Mena. Jess does.

Shock could not even begin to describe the immediate effects of such a statement. A feeling like a smack from a freight train travelling at 100 mph washed over him and settled before his fork could even hit the ground. It clattered against the hardword floor, sending mushy eggs in every direction. It could have easily been a metaphor for his heart.

He couldn't even begin to fathom her statement. He couldn't choke out a single word in response. Nothing registered in his mind at all.

"Now, Jess, I don't want you to be angry with me. You have to let me explain..".

Anger hadn't even entered into his mind, not until she suggested it.

"What do you mean, DON'T BE ANGRY?" His voice rose immediately and he shoved himself out of his chair. "You left me! You...were pregnant! You left me when you were pregnant! And did who knows what with the baby without even consulting me! I mean, if you weren't ready to have it, I could have respected that- but you weren't even going to tell me? Were you just going to leave and go on living your life with me completely oblivious! I can't believe you! I loved you!"

_Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Holy shit._

He paced the room indescribably irate. Mena had rushed to his side in an attempt to calm him, but he wasn't having it and pushed her away with more force than necessary. She stumbled back, visibly surprised by this reaction, but moved in again, undetered, towards Jess.

"Jess, calm down. You have to let me explain. I didn't get rid of the baby. I wasn't just going to leave you and let you go on 'completely oblivious.' I was just scared, Jess. Do you remember the last week? I was sick and you insisted that I stay in and eat that awful soup you made me? Honey, that was the morning sickness. I hadn't known very long, maybe a few days, but you...You just seemed so happy, with your new job, and the new apartment. I wasn't sure you'd react well to it. We certaintly couldn't have afforded a baby."

"It shouldn't have mattered! You should have been able to tell me! You could have told me!"

"Oh, I wanted to. I was going to. I tossed and turned all night thinking about how to do it. And then I started overanalyzing everything, and one night of insomnia turned into two, and then three. It's no wonder the morning sickness was so bad. Anyway, during the day I'd sit up in bed and read this book I found."

Jess directed a patronizing glare at her, daring her to give this story a point. Soon.

"It was unbound and untitled, beautifully written...I couldn't put it down." Affection laced her voice, peppered with something unmistakably forlorn as she continued, "It was the story of this lonely little boy and how he searches happiness after he had lost the first thing he had ever loved in his life. He doesn't find it, though he grows over his bitterness and conquers his pain. He achieves all the trappings of success, but it's not until that first love comes back to him that he really understands what it means to live. Now, this unknown is not my beloved Michael Crichton, and he'd take it as a compliment, but the poignancy, pregnancy hormones be damned, put tears in my eyes."

Jess had nothing to say. He couldn't even look at her. He couldn't believe she had found that. She wasn't supposed to. He had written it down so that he could throw it away.

"Jess, I understand. I didn't need her picture to fall out from the last page to realize that I could never live up to that. I know you loved me, but there was no fire in it. I'm sure we could have grown old together, raising beautiful children and being content with one another. But we both want more than that."

Jess fell back onto the couch, burying his fingers in his hair. She sat down next to him, a hand on each shoulder. "I only meant to leave for a few hours. I needed to clear my head and figure out what to do. I didn't find a solution, though, so I went to my grandmother's and hid for longer than I intended. Nothing felt right. The gyno appointments, the ultrasounds, the detours into the baby clothes section; it was so empty, Jess. I want you to believe that I wanted you to be there. I wanted to tell you. I wanted us to be a happy family. So, about three weeks ago, I resolved to tell you after my second ultrasound. I wanted pictures to tell the story."

Mena leaned over Jess to fish some pictures out of her purse. If Jess had been able to distinguish anything from them, if he had known anything about the growth rates, he would have seen that they were first ultrasounds. "These were from my first appointment..." She explained, her voice waffling at the line between vunerability and strength. "They couldn't find a heartbeat during the second."

Jess swallowed hard and looked up at her, heartbreak written all over both faces. "Mena? Does that mean...?" Jess managed to croak out, his voice involuntarily cracking.

She nodded and rested her head on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort them both. "I had a miscarriage," she whispered quietly, and the rollercoaster of emotions continued.

They were both silent, each in the other's arms, incapable of pulling their eyes away from the picture in Mena's hand. "Jess...You know me. I'm the science geek, Darwin's emmissary from the dead. Life has no purpose that you don't designate to it. Our little one here? He or she is trying to tell us to let go and find something more than contentment, as hard as it is to move away from comfort. I'll always love you, Jess, but I can't compete with her."

Jess clutched her hand, single tears falling down each cheek. It was too much at once. He needed time. "No, Mena, don't do this. She doesn't exist anymore. I love you. I wanted this...we could have done this together. Hell, let's try again. We'll move to Seattle, you can start your new job, and then a family...I'm ready for this!" Jess would look back on this moment and become physically ill at the volume of desperation that leaked out of his voice.

Mena swiped her own tears away and then Jess'. "I believe you, and I wish it could be so, but it can't be. She may or may not exist anymore, but that fire? It does exist somewhere and not with me. I know you don't believe in all that "true love" crap, but we both know that there's more out there for the both of us. Let's move on, while we only have the good to look back on."

Mena glanced down at her watch and gave Jess one last smile. She pulled him into a hug and pressed her lips against his forehead. "I want you to keep this." She folded the ultrasound picture in half and tucked in into his hand. "Something to remember us by."

Jess sat there long after she left, eyes cast down to the floor, elbows propped on either of his legs with his head held beween them. The only thought he allowed himself to process was, "Nothing good ever happens in Stars Hollow."


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: Three things: First is that this chapter continues with the theme of transition...Consider all of these chapters a subtle shifting towards fifth gear. I recognize this one isn't that impressive, but what about second gear is? Secondly, thank you, thank you, thank you to reviewers. I really appreciate that you take a few moments to do that for me. Finally, you have my permission to hate Laurence.

The wedding was a classic Stars Hollow event. Lorelei, naturally, had Sookie cater the event, and held it on the Inn grounds. All of the most colorful Stars Hollow characters were in attendance, in addition to the other Gilmores and Logan, who strolled in fashionably late with Rory on his arm.

He was lucky Patty knocked over the flowers about five minutes before the ceremony should have started.

Otherwise, the wedding was uneventful. Jess focused on the task at hand to maintain his composure, refusing to allow himself to be envious of his uncle, or dwell on Mena, or consider the fact that even when he did leave, he would have no real home to go to, or contemplate how he would manage Christmas three weeks from then back in this lunatic town, or think about the life he could have had if he hadn't written that stupid book, or question the motives of Rory's continued glance in his direction while she cuddled with Logan. No, he focused, and thought about none of this.

Needless to say, Jess was glad he packed before hand, and told his friend, Laurence, who would pick him up, to arrive half an hour early.

Jess said his goodbyes quickly after the ceremony was over. A congratulations to Luke and Lorelei, an awkward hug from his mother, a scowl for TJ and "see you around" to Lane rounded out his exit and he moved quickly toward the diner to grab his bags the second he spotted Laurence's beat up Accord.

Of course, he would not get away so easily. He recieved a final visitor while he shoved his duffle back into an already-full trunk.

"Leaving already? Aren't you going to stay for the reception?" It was Rory.

"No," Jess responded taciturnly, and made an effort to shove the trunk lid down. Failing for the fifth time, he swore at his friend in the drivers' seat. "Laurence! Is there a reason why, having seen me pack this bag to leave, you would have made sure there was room for it?" A half mumbled swear accompanied his scolding, but Laurence had little response other than an obviously unapologetic "Sorry, man."

Rory quietly listened, before responding herself with a quiet, "Oh. Well...will you be back for Christmas?"

"No."

Rory had her arms folded uncomfortably, slightly hunched over and watching the ground when Jess turned around after finally succeeding in slamming the trunk closed. She hadn't figured out what to say, yet.

"Goodbye, Rory," Jess offered stoically and then planted himself in the passenger seat. Laurence put the car in gear to drive it away when Rory knocked on the window, probably more frantic then she intended.

Jess grumbled for his friend to stop and rolled down the window. "Is there someplace I can reach you?" It was honest in intent and bare of excuses. If his morning had been any different, he might have been slightly impressed.

"Yea, hold on," he relented and dug a Wal-Mart receipt and a pen from in between the center console and the seat to write his mostly-permanent cell phone number on it. She recieved it with a half-smile, and a "Goodbye, Jess," of her own, and Jess finally made it out of town.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't until they were stuck in grid-lock just outside of New York City that Laurence finally opened his mouth, and it was in his patented talking at rather than talking to tone that he did it in. "My roommate moved out yesterday. Mena moved all your stuff from the apartment into his room."

"Well isn't that fucking convenient," was all Jess had to say in response.

"She left you a note, too, but I'm not going to give it to you. All you need to know about it is what I just told you. You're moving in with me, and she conned the landlord out of half a month's rent, which I am keeping for all the gas it cost me to drive you from Stars Hollow and back."

"She came to visit me this morning; there's nothing I don't know. I would like to know, however, why she told you so much, instead of telling me?" There was more than a little annoyance in Jess' tone.

"No need to be hostile. I only found this crap out yesterday morning, when she dropped all the boxes off...She came to visit you, though? I didn't expect that."

"Her timing was impeccable." Jess tapped his fingers impatiently against the door handle, hoping the locquacious Laurence would finally gather the intelligence to shut up and stop trying to analyze what he hadn't had time to process.

"Mena always marched to the beat of her own drum. What can you do? Shit, if I were in her shoes, I'm not sure I wouldn't have done the same thing. She once told me that she never felt like you were all there, anyway." Laurence couldn't have said anything less conducive to his face, or the sanity of his friend.

"Thanks for the support. Now drive." Jess hoped his terse irritation would encourage his friend to close his mouth. Of course, he would have no such luck.

"That was her, wasn't it? The Stars Hollow chick? Not exactly your type."

"What the hell is going on with you? Why all this chatter? Don't you know better? I thought Mena didn't tell you that much?"

"What is much?" Laurence commented slyly, and the urge to break his face surged even more powerfully into Jess' fingers.

"Look, I don't really want to talk about it, so if you could just shut up and drive so that I can get back to sleep, I'd appreciate it enough not to break your nose."

"Duly noted," were the last two words out of Laurence's mouth for the rest of the day.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Given how weak the last chapter was, I decided to make it up to all of you by giving you two.

Also, "wampeter" and "karass" are from Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle, which is a brilliant novel everyone should read at least once in their life. It seemed befitting of Jess, as did the The Plague, and Fight Club, which are also masterpieces and deserve your attention. But onto the story...

Laurence was an intimidating guy. At a towering 6"2 and covered in tattoos, he stuck out like a sore thumb in most situations. His temper and sarcasm would have made him the stereotypical "tough guy", but, as an art major, this was easily diffused in casual conversation.

For Jess, Laurence was the wampeter of his karass in New York City. Most of his high school friends had either gone to jail, or been reduced by self-perpetuated angst to some other, equally undesirable fate. Jess, having no desire to join them, took up almost any job to avoid this, one of which ended up being a night-shift janitor at NYU. It wasn't his proudest, or favorite job, but it kept a roof over his head. And Laurence, who would often paint in one of the lobbies he was designated to clean, provided decent company.

Through Laurence, he met Mena. At the time, Laurence was dating a horrible journalism major with an affinity for sadism by vapidty. Mena had been her roommate, and one of a few friends. Once in awhile, they would stop in to visit Laurence and tease him about his latest stroke of genius.

Jess had no qualms, even in the beginning, about Laurence being less than his favorite person most nights. The guy could be intolerably arrogant, especially when it came to his talent, but Jess could appreciate that he at least had ambition and the resolve not to become a starving artist. The relationship had been good for them both, with or without Mena.

Before he had moved in with Mena, he had lived with Laurence, so it was convenient enough for him to just move back in. They lived in relative symbiosis, each leaving the other to their own business until it was time to engage in something resembling social. Then, they could go out together, most often with their respective girlfriends, or, barring that, some of Laurence's buddies from NYU. Jess appreciated the latter the least, but sometimes, he needed to get out of the house enough that it didn't matter.

They hadn't gone out once, though, since Jess had moved back in. Twice, Laurence tried to drag Jess out, but he really didn't see any reason to pretend to be amused.All Laurence was really hinting at was that he needed to get laid, even if it was mindless. Jess didn't feel like it would solve anything, though, so he dodged out of it and stayed in to read Camus instead.

Nothing puts your crappy life in perspective quite like The Plague.

Eventually, Christmas time rolled around, and the calls started coming in for Jess. "Lily would love to see you," Jimmy said. "Oh, Jessie, come back for Christmas," asked his mother. "I understand why you wouldn't want to come back," Luke offered.

The calls had become so frequent, so insistent about his time, that he eventually stopped picking them up. That is, until he recieved one from Lily directly. Jess had absolutely no desire, or money, to visit his family in California, but relented to a visit from Lily for New Years. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with a thirteen-year-old, especially given that Laurence would probably fill the apartment with drunk, half-naked art majors, but given significant pressure, he was sure he'd find out.

Other than that, though, Jess resolved to spend Christmas alone. He wasn't religious to celebrate, anyway.

Laurence made his third attempt to pull Jess out of his denied depression and otherwise anti-social behavior on Christmas Eve, but he wasn't having any of it. Besides the obvious aversions, the "getaway" would have been to Laurence's mother's, who was terminally ill with breast cancer and a horrible cook. Jess refused this invitation, too, and planned on spending Christmas alone with a case of beer, Fight Club, the movie (although he would never admit he liked the movie just as much as the book), and some Jewish sandwhich from across the street that he couldn't even begin to pronounce.

Half-way through his sandwhich and being informed that "he was the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world," someone knocked on his door. He paused the movie, but didn't bother to put down his food, suspecting that Laurence, who had only left about an hour before, had forgotten something, aside from his apartment key, which was sitting on the kitchen counter.

He unlocked the door and twisted the knob just enough to let it open partially. "You forgot your apartment key. It's on the counter," he shouted, returning to the couch to watch his movie. No one came in, though, and Jess was left with a sinking feeling that he had just opened the door to some psycopathic seriel killer. It wasn't the worse thing that could happen tonight, but it definitely wasn't on his list of things to do, though.

He moved off the couch to grab a cast iron pan, for all the good it would do, off the pot rack Mena had insisted on buying, and then couldn't be bothered to take with her. He managed to do it stealthily enough there was only one tell-tale clang aluminum and then quietly approached the door.

Of course, the peep hole was covered, so he was left to take aggressive action. He would look back on this moment and wonder why it didn't occur to him just to shove the door close and lock it, but it didn't, so he fingered the door handle before ripping it open, wielding the pan like a baseball bat.

"Oh shit," he grumbled as Rory stumbled forward and bumped her head on his elbow. She had been leaning on the door, writing a note on the piece of paper she had taped over the peephole.

Rory swore herself, much to the surprise of Jess and put a consoling hand to her forehead. "Do you always greet visitors that way?" she bit sarcastically.

"No, just ones who cover up my peephole. You should feel lucky. I could have hit you with the pan." He shook it menancingly in his left hand and pushed the door open a final few inches to let her in. "I'll give you some ice," he offered, although there was nothing friendly about his town.

"You watch too many cartoons," was all she had to say as she walked in and took a seat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table.


	14. Chapter 14

Jess offered an expired bag of frozen peas after finding no ice and sat down across the table from Rory, impatiently waiting for her to explain herself. Instead, she silently nursed her probably minor bump on the head. 

The two beers Jess had already consumed were not doing anything for his patience and she didn't seem to be picking up on all the clues of his annoyance- the irritable tapping of his fingers on the table, the condescending stare, or the continual glance at his watch- or was tactfully ignored them. He made her edgy, and as much as it bothered him, it showed. He wanted her gone, so that she couldn't see how he was pathetically spending Christmas alone, or recognize that a previously mentioned girlfriend was no longer in the picture, or so that he wouldn't blurt out anything stupid in his semi-intoxicated state.

"How did you find me?" he finally asked, as if he were in the Witness Protection Program. He had given her a cell phone number and Luke hadn't been to any of his residences since the 4 mattress rat-hole. The only thing he could think of was his mother's visit on the way back from the Ren Fair, the first time he lived with Laurence. She really had no reason to follow that trail, though, because that had been a year ago.

"Liz told me that you lived with someone named Laurence about a year ago, here. Since Laurence was your driver, I just assumed that if you weren't still here, he would know." She went to my mother...?

Of course she would have been able to sniff him out. Journalism majors have a nose for details.

"So this was premeditated." It was merely a vocalized realization, and, honestly, an attempt to make her uncomfortable.

"No. I made the phone calls that led me here about an hour ago." Rory almost scrubbed her bump with the thawing peas and then set the bag down on the table. His attempt had been successful, as the subsequent (and repeated) shifting in her seat evidenced.

"Urgent, then? Tell me, Rory, to what do I owe this visit? Why aren't you at home with your mother? Or galavanting around with Logan?"

Rory chuckled nervously, "In case you didn't pick up on it at dinner, my mother and I don't exactly get along anymore. And I am...or I was..."galavanting around" with Logan, although it's not as pretentious as you make it sound." Her tone was defensive, although not as much as he had expected. "Logan and I, we were going to divide our winter break between Sweden with Finn and Colin, and New York City, but we missed our flight."

"So you came here for entertainment and didn't bring blondie with you? That's too bad, we could have re-enacted Fight Club. He could be Tyler, I could be Jack, you can be Marla. My neighbor downstairs holds impromtu AA meetings in his room- we could have sat in."

"Taking that at anymore than a correlation of hair color would not bode well for you, Jess."

"Unless we shifted the focus to Marla. To her, Jack and Tyler are simply facets of the same person. The only difference is that one is real and one is not."

"Would you like to suggest that Logan is just a perfected, if unreal, substitute for you? Because if that's what you're implying, just come out and say it."

Jess brushed it off with an amused scoff. He hadn't really thought the argument through, and he wasn't about to tax himself on Christmas Eve, even for Rory.

"Aren't going to argue it? That's too bad...you might have been right." She abruptly removed herself from the chair, snatching the bag of peas up in the process. A swift shot towards the trashcan was successful in disposing them, if a little whimsical for her, and was quickly followed by a move to exit.

Jess was sufficiently alarmed and intrigued by the implication and nearly tripped as he jumped out of his seat to beat her to the door. He just made it, slamming the few inches she had opened closed with a hard shove from his right hand. The close proximity it produced was almost as disorienting as her previous suggestion and forced himself to watch her hand, still affixed to the doorknob, unable to meet her eyes.

Words lodged themselves in the back of his throat, constricted by doubt about who Rory was, fear of rejection, the ambiguity about Logan and all of his past experience in ressurecting what he had convinced himself to be lost.

"Curiousity killed the cat, Mariano. Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked himself, and saw that there was no doubt in Rory's grip. She was ready to let go of the doorknob, if only he'd ask him. This, compounded with Mena's last words, all the hope he thought he'd buried, and a nagging fire that pulsed at every nerve ending surged to dislodge an unwavering, and simply honest, "Stay, Rory."

Her grip slackened, but her fingertips remained connected. There was more doubt than Jess had allowed him to see.

"I don't know why I came here," she admitted in a soft whisper.

"Something happened with Logan, and now you're alone in a unfamiliar city on Christmas Eve." He didn't even let her respond, unwilling to make her admit it, "We'll argue, if you want...talk, even, or we can just watch cheezy claymation Christmas specials."

She relinquished the doorhandle and Jess allowed his eyes to greet her face. She was smiling, albeit weakly, but those cerulean eyes never left his. "Can we start with the claymation and move into talking? I'm not sure I could live with myself if I missed 'Rudolph.'"

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It started out innocently enough. After realizing that next 'Rudolph' would not be rerunning for another hour, the two went foraging down the street at the grocery and Jess' apartment acquired an obscene amount of every type of junk food to go with their movie. She had made the affair a classic movie night, despite the impromtu nature of its conception.

They watched it three times before the combination of what was left of Jess' case of beer and plumetting sugar levels lured them both into unconsciousness.

There had been no real talking, though. They avoided any topic of substance, and as a result, there had been little awkwardness past the intial walk to the grocery store. Otherwise, they joked, laughed, bantered and mocked with the chemistry of their adolescence. Jess almost let himself believe that the easiness of the relationship was in no way due to the copious amounts of alcohol they each consumed. Reality, of course, dictated otherwise.

It was still dark outside, at least for New York City, when Jess' eyes fluttered open. The exhaustion that kept his eyelids heavy signaled to Jess that it was merely the crick in his neck that woke him up, as opposed to sufficient fitful rest. The beginnings of a hangover were probably culpable as well. But Jess couldn't move to get himself comfortable. Rory had affixed her arms around his waist and fallen asleep on his chest. The ease of her breathing and the slight smile on her lips indicated that she was going to be better rested than he was in the morning.

Jess had a decision to make. He could either sacrifice his sleep to, pathetically, leave Rory's arms wrapped around him, and maybe even slip in an arm of his own, or gently wake her just enough to put her in his bed, and spare the awkwardness in the morning.

The most productive course of action, as Jess' slightly inebriated logic dictated, was to put her in his bed. He would be rested enough for any dialogue they needed to have, and, with any luck, she wouldn't even remember how she fell asleep, so there would be no reason for her to feel like she did something wrong. He could slip an arm around her to wake her up, or maybe even carry her to bed...He would, of course, then return directly to the couch. It was a low impact situation and it was the best of both worlds, even if it made Jess a little disgusted with himself.

So that is what he resolved to attempt to do.

Jess snaked an arm around her shoulder and whispered, "Rory...Rory..." as he shook her shoulder lightly.

Her hand slid across his stomach from his waist and collected a handful of his shirt which she tugged downward on. "Mmm...just a few more minutes," she requested raspily and nuzzled his chest before snuggling in closer.

He sucked in a breath, unable to believe the almost erotic tone coming out of such an innocent mouth, nevermind what she was doing to his shirt, or how her body was pressed firmly against his. It was all he could do not to just stay there instead of continuing his plan.

But he did press on because he perceived it as the 'right' thing to do. He shook her shoulder again, a more forcefully this time, and spoke a little louder. "Rory, Rory, wake up."

This time, her only verbal response was the haunting half-moan of _his_ name. She released his shirt and slid her hand underneath it, delicately raking her fingernails over the definitions in his stomach. Jess swallowed and look down at her face, to see her looking up at him, eyes half-often. It was all he could do to keep his breathing stable, nevermind actually think about what was happening or determine how awake she was: Did she think this was just a dream? Did she know what she was doing?

She pulled her other hand out from behind him and ran it up his arm, to his shoulder and then his neck, leading him down to meet her mouth. Her feet fel from the other end of the couch and she situated herself better so that she was sitting up next to him.

Jess allowed his hands to clutch her now-available waist and returned her kiss. It was an uncomplicated meshing of lips, free of meditation. Their tongues dueled, fueled by raw and hungry unchecked emotion. They were both lost in one another, desperate to close every inch between them and reluctant to open one with the parting of their lips, even to breathe. Hands roved and tugged frustratedly at the garments between them. Names that would have been cried out fell directly into the mouth of their owner.

He would look back on it later and call it 'blissfully dizzy.'

The intensity of emotion was not conducive for a stoic situation, however. Before long, Rory was in his lap, working magic on his neck while he entangled his fingers in her hair. Shortly thereafter, he was missing a shirt.

It wasn't until she lost her first article of clothing, though, that, surprisingly, his senses came to him. She was sitting back, pulling her shirt over her head when it hit him that this was _Rory Gilmore_. _Rory Gilmore_ was nearly topless and pulling at his belt._ Rory Gilmore _with a boyfriend. _Rory Gilmore_, who, if he ever wanted a legitimate chance with, he could not have sex with. At least not _now_.

A/N: Do they, or don't they?...Also, if anyone thinks I should up the rating, please let me know. I tried not to be _too_ explicit, but I'm a little unsure about whether this crosses the line or not.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: It's a short chapter, but the next one will make up for it. Also, thank you reviewers for the feedback. I have what I needed to know now. :)

Jess' last thought was the most sobering, and he quickly extricated himself from the situation, much to Rory's confusion. She fell back on the couch, fixing a frown on her brow and stared at him curiousily.

He took a moment to collect his senses and put his shirt back on. While he was picking clothing off the floor, he took the opportunity to give Rory's shirt back too, but she didn't put it back on. She just kept staring. Sufficiently stable and dressed, he offered her his hand, in which she placed her own, and pulled her off the couch before leading her to his bedroom.

Rory emitted a noise that sounded a lot like a giggle and tossed her shirt haphazardly onto the floor in the bedroom, stepping in front of Jess to walk backwards towards the bed. "You didn't need to put your shirt back on if this was your plan," she spoke into his mouth, punctuating her message with light kisses.

"You're drunk, Rory." It was the only feasible explanation for this sexually confident behavior. He evaded her temporarily to flip his nightstand lamp on before pushing her back on the bed. It elicited a playful growl (and a subsequent blush) from Rory, but it was only to prop her feet up so he could take off her shoes.

The truth was, though, that neither of them had become truly drunk. There were six beers between them, split down the middle, and consumed over a six hour period of time. Now, five hours later, most of the alcohol should have been filtered through. Jess processed this logic slowly, mostly due to sleep deprivation, while removing her socks and throwing the blankets over her, unwilling to believe that this was behavior of conscious, sober Rory.

"No, I'm not, Jess," Rory articulated, verbalizing what Jess was coming to realize. She childishly shoved the covers he had thrown over her down to her waist. Arching her back slightly, she snapped the clasp of her bra behind her, let it fall forward and then dropped it over the bed. Completely topless, she propped herself up on her elbows and delivered a smoldering "Come hither," look that would have made Taylor proud, her cerulean eyes dark with lust in the warm light of the lamp.

"Rory..." he scolded, adverting his eyes from her chest. Restraint was not coming easily, and every move she made seemed to pull it farther and farther away from him. "...No," he commanded, and focused directly on her face, covered up her bare chest with one of the sheets.

Unfortunately for his self-control, his balance was just weak enough that when compounded with the way Rory seized his face with her hands, he fell on top of her. Their lips crashed together again, and the kiss quickly deepened, fed by a fading his fading reluctance. But Jess made one last effort to pull away, to which she quickly crushed him back against her. This time, however, she had something to say. Something other than his name, anyway.

"I'm not drunk," she whispered into his left ear, outlining the outter rim with her tongue before placing tiny kisses down his jaw. His mouth was skipped for the trail to be picked up on the other side. "I'm wide awake," she breathed into his right ear, accompanying it with a delicate flicking of his lobe. Her hands crawled down his spine, sending a shivering sensation that caused him to bow his back inwards, towards her. He caught the mischevious look in her eye as she moved her head to whisper her final declaration into his left ear. "I want this." It was simple, raspy and stole any last bit of resistance Jess had in him.

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She had fallen asleep perfectly curled up next to him. One leg, bent at the knee, fell over his thighs and thread itself through his legs. Her head rested against his chest, keeping one hand, entwined with his, company. His faded black sheets lied low, just covering the space below the small of her back, leaving her otherwise unapologetically uncovered.

"Angel" wasn't the right word, but it was the first to come to mind.

Jess was acutely aware of every rise and fall of her chest, every shift of her body, the delicate smile on her face. He wanted to memorize all of the little things. He wanted to remember that this was what love felt like: agonizing, marvelous and untamed.

A sinking feeling in his gut told him this was goodbye. His Christmas present from Rory was not another shot, but climactic closure. The "I love yous" were consolation prizes.

She had been insistent, though, almost to the point of being unrecognizable, and that's what tipped him off. If this was all he was going to get, there would be no regrets.

He looked back down at his 'angel,' and traced one of his fingers over his shoulder, careful not to wake her or steal any second away from what he had convinced himself were his last moments with Rory.

But she eventually awake, eyes fluttering open from underneath her lashes. Her face turned away from Jess as she sat up and curled the sheets up around her protectively.

Jess' anxiety about what would happen next constricted his breathing.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: He does know Rory has dropped out of Yale. Luke told him in Chapter 4, and he reflected on it during the fight in the last part of the family dinner. :) By now, he's aware of all her major indiscretions and has had time to process them, so if there's going to be an actual, productive chat, Rory is the only one who is in for any surprises- namely, Mena. And yea, the big talks will start to happen now, so buckle up. Nothing is going to come easily, if it does at all.

I would like to apologize for the lack of updates lately. School sucks, what can I say?

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Rory turned her head from one side and then to the other, investigating the room around her, and absolutely silent as she did so. At one point, she stood up, adjusted the sheets to cover herself modestly, and walked over to the book shelf to examine it with a scrutinous eye. Occasionally, she would pull one out, only to smile at the cover, and then set it back in with a hollow thock.

Jess stretched out on the bed, contented to watch her. This was a Rory he knew, one he loved even, and he had the privelege of her innocence for the next hour.

But she eventually picked herself off the floor, where she had sat down to more comfortably probe the lower levels. She proceeded to pad over to Jess afterwards, wearing this unreadable smile that could have been kind, or sly, pitying. Still, she said nothing and he didn't dare to either, allowing her to lead. Her weight sunk the mattress as she leaned on it, chest to the bed, to plant a chaste kiss on his mouth. "Merry Christmas, Jess," she spoke softly and then continued into the bathroom, scooping up her clothes as she did so.

Bewilderment didn't begin to embody the confusion that arose in her wake. What did he do now? Did he make her breakfast? Did he let her leave? Did he try to talk to her? What was it she wanted...or did she already get it? Sometimes, she could be so hard to read.

Jess analyzed his options and determined that he wanted her to stay. He wanted her to stay, and he wanted to talk- and yes, he would expand beyond monosyllabic responses to do so. He had a lot of questions, and an itch for closure if this was Rory's way of saying goodbye. Breakfast seemed the most conducive to adding precious minutes to her stay.

So that's what he did, after he set out some clean clothes for Rory to wear, just in case she had any mind to stay past the shower, just in case she wanted to talk.

He was dropping cool bacon into the pan when the phone rang. Jess considered picking it up, given that it was Christmas, but dismissed the idea quickly at the horrors that would accompany a phone call from his mother or Jimmy. Instead, he let it ring until the machine picked it up.

_"This is Laurence Monette and Jess Mariano. Leave a message."_

_"Hey, Jess- it's Luke. Is Rory with you? Logan's put Lorelei into a panic about her missing and Liz mentioned that she called yesterday and asked about where you lived. Look, just call me back when you get this message." _

The machine beeped with conclusion and Jess was left speechless. He was the only one who knew definitively where Rory was, at this point, though it may not have been for long. Did he call Luke back, so he could assuage Lorelei's fears? Did he play the message for Rory and ask her what to say, and maybe use it at as an opening for discussion? It wasn't exactly a friendly opening line, though.

He was sliding the bacon onto a plate lined with paper towels, debating what to do and attempting to start some eggs when Rory walked out of his room, wearing her own clothes. There was a smile on her face, though, more genuine than the one she greeted him with earlier. There was something more at ease about it, as if she'd washed off indecision with sweat in the shower.

"I thought I smelled something cooking," she commented as she came towards him. She stole a piece of bacon off the plate he had set next to the stove and planted a kiss on his cheek. There was a degree of awkardness in it, but smile she gave him when he looked up at her removed any trace of it instantaneously.

But he wasn't going to forget about Logan, or about the night before, or about Dean, or dropping out of Yale, or stealing the boat, or why she wasn't with anyone else but him on Christmas- he had too many questions and was going to do his damndest to get some answers.

Jess adverted his eyes back to the pan of eggs, unwilling to submit again, and gestured with a spatula'd hand towards the coffee pot at the intersection of the counters. "The coffee should be done now. The mugs are on top of the fridge."

Rory brushed against him as she made her way to the fridge. He could hear her set the mugs on the counter, followed by the clattering of a couple of plates. He heard her fill her mug. He heard her pick it up and then set it back down. But he wasn't going to look at her, he decided. He was going to make the eye contact count when he asked for a serious discussion.

She brushed against him again, carrying the dinnerware she had collected to the table. He followed shortly after with the eggs and bacon, grateful that she was going to take the opportunity to eat with him at least. It wasn't like Gilmore was going to pass up food, anyway, though.

It was predictably awkward when they both sat down, each silently eating. The table was small, so no words were necessary to acquire the salt, and Jess was too busy formulating an approach to look up from his plate. He could, however, feel her eyes burning holes through him and wondered what she was thinking. He hoped she was as confused as he was.

Jess heard the clang of her fork against her plate and the creak of the chair as she leaned back in it. All the better to view him with, he mused. She was going to do more than viewing, though, and shattered the silence. "Your book collection has grown," she commented neutrally.

Jess nodded his head, and implemented his conversation strategy, which was to give her just enough information to be curious. "It happens when you manage a bookstore. Most of the stuff that comes through is rare, but not necessarily movable. My boss' policy is to dump it on me if it sits on the shelf for more than nine months."

"That would explain the obscure authors and The Celtic Tiger. I never figured you for an economics enthusiast."

Jess chuckled lightly and stood up, collecting the plates to dump them in the sink. He was quick about it, though, because he didn't want her to leave. "Yea. The bottom shelf is full of things like that. The only book I ever bothered to read, I can't even remember the name of. Robert G. Ingersoll? He was a colonel in the Spanish-American war, and the "Great Agnostic." My girlfriend was in love with him."

Rory evaded the comment about the girlfriend reference, and slid a clean, twine-bound manuscript, about 500 pages thick onto the table. If he hadn't been so annoyed that she found it, he might have wondered how she snuck in into the kitchen.

"And this one? It looked interesting- The Stolen Howl, by Jack M. Danes." She leaned over the book, and read the summary aloud, '_A story about reclaiming what was lost.'_"

He glanced up at her to catch the mischevious glint in her eye. The reference and the name similarity were obvious enough, so there was no denying it. "That wasn't on the bottom shelf," was all the response he could manage.

"Then you've read it?"

Jess delivered an amused glare in her direction. "Aside from writing it, no. What is it you're getting at Rory? Look at the copyright. I wrote it two years ago."

Rory looked off-put by his tone and recoiled a little. "I was just wondering why it was under your bed and not in a publisher's office, that's all."

Jess resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and responded flatly, "Because it's not meant to be read. It was a cathartic exercise, which I reflect back on from time to time."

She only nodded and pushed herself away from the table, "Well, it's been great seeing you again, Jess, but I better get going."

No lame excuse was attatched. It was just, "I'm leaving, so please let me go without protest." It was, "Sorry, you're not getting answers out of me." It was, "Sorry, I got what I wanted and now I'm leaving." It was, "Sorry, Jess, your strategy failed." It was, "Have a nice life." - Jess wasn't going to have any of it.

"So that's it, Rory? You come here and screw me in both senses of the word, and then leave? Is this your way of gaining closure- because if that's what we're doing here, you owe me just as much, and you're going to have to give me some answers before I get mine." His tone was commanding and irritated, and he looked straight into her eyes as he said every word.

"So you're the only one that gets to leave without explanation? The only one who gets to shout, "I love you," and walk off?" Rory laughed bitterly, and shoved the chair underneath the table. "I get it, Jess, and it's too bad, because I don't owe you anything. Have a nice life." She made a beeline for the door, and managed to make it out.

But Jess would pursue her. He ran after her, carelessly leaving his door unlocked, and caught the elevator door just in time to slip in. Rory groaned audibly and wore her disgust on her face. "Why does Logan keep calling your mother asking where you are? Why did you go to my mother to hunt me down? Why did you have an affair with Dean? Why did you drop out of Yale? Why did you come here?"

By the time he had bombarded her with questions, they were already leveling out on the first floor. He was determined not to let her get away, though, and guarded the elevator buttons, which were thankfully on his side of the doors, after he punched in for the 12th floor. She tried to leave, even as the gap between the doors was too narrow, but he held firm to her shoulders, preventing her from leaving.

"Let go of me!" she shouted and struggled to get free of him. He held firm, though, just long enough for the door to close again.

"I can't let go, Rory." The fact that he was no longer her captor emphasized his real meaning. "I can't let go until I know what happened last night. Until I know what happened to you. Until you let me explain, until you understand, why I left. I'm not looking for a relationship, Rory, I just want to talk to you!"

Rory stubbornly said nothing.

"Fine, Rory," Jess grumbled, and held his arms out, a little less dramatically than Vanna White, around the door, which was now opening to the 12th floor. "Leave. Go run to Logan. We won't talk, and I won't mention last night, but don't you ever come back to me expecting anything more than the silent treatment you're giving me right now. Merry Christmas. Goodbye."


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: So my last ending was a bunch of crap, basically. I agree with anyone who said- "worst ending EVER," because now that I've had some time to reflect on it, I really think I copped out. So, now that I have time, I've rewritten this with a happier ending, although it's still in keeping with the "These Tortured Souls" idea that I started with.

He could see the resolve building in her eyes, the way her posture subtly shifted, the way she cleared her mouth with her tongue and swallowed anything that would hold her back. He imagined this was the end. He imagined that this was the last time he would see Rory Gilmore- not that the woman he loved inhabited the body in front of him anyway.

And, he, too, was building resolve about this.

The elevator levelled out on the top floor and announced the opening of its doors with a grating, ominous "ding." Jess swallowed hard, and prepared himself for her departure.

But she didn't go. She held his eyes in hers and let the doors close again. She held his eyes and unflinchingly moved towards him, practically gluing her body to his to reach around him and press the button to lower them to the 8th floor, where Jess lived. She held his eyes in his as she backed away, still cool, stoic and utterly unreadable.

Jess wondered if this was all a dream. He wondered if she was only dropping him off on her way down. He wondered if this was a false victory. He wondered if she could see his weakness, his confusion or the way his resolve abandoned him the second she hit the button.

If she could, she didn't let on.

When the elevator opened its doors to the 8th floor, after ninety seconds of excruciating silence as they traversed the four floors, she put her hand in his in the a warm gesture that sharply contrasted with the frigidity of her behavior. He allowed her to lead him, vexed beyond reaction, back to his apartment. He allowed her to pull him down next to her on the couch, he allowed her to let go of his hand. He allowed her to speak first.

"We'll talk, Jess," she spoke, finally, in a tone that was so dramatically different from any behavior she had exhibited earlier that Jess was a little stunned.

And then they did, productively and civil, though not unpassionate. Jess confessed what had been long realized about his departures, to the correct analyzations of Rory. He left because he was afraid, because he had nothing to offer her, because it was his father, because he dropped out. He'd come back because he loved her- it was that simple.

Rory admitted that Jess was a factor in her affair with Dean. He only added to the chaos and tumult of the time, but it was more than that. It was loneliness, it was a sense of reclaiming what had been lost, what she couldn't reclaim with Jess, what she had wanted with him...

Jess talked about Mena. He talked about how he had met her with fond recollection. He explained why she left, and what happened when she came back. He showed Rory, more than he told her, what Mena had done for him.

And Rory spoke of Logan. She would mumble about the boat, and defiantly defend her decision to drop out of Yale. She would lament the developments in the relationship with her mother. It was this topic that would draw her into his arms, to fall asleep and leave Jess to his thoughts.

The words Rory would speak made it easy to let go. It was the way she said it, with the flicker of drive, of pro-con analysis, the insane references she could manage to drop into even the most serious conversations...That made it hard. Confessing, giving himself back to her, produced a similar tug-of-war. He couldn't help but feel the pull of adolescence that suggested flight, and yet, the understanding that his confessions produced made it harder to leave.

At the end of the day, though, as the lights of NYC began to flicker down and Rory snored softly on his chest, he realized that he had to. She wasn't going to stay, for more reasons that Logan's personal tumult and her need to be there for him. It was time for them both to give up and move on.

Accepting this was hard, especially with Rory's physical proximity and the intimate way she had her arms wrapped around his waist, but he did it, and then made a plan.

He made a plan and then drifted off to sleep himself.

His eyes would flicker open several hours later, as the sun peeked through the curtains of his apartment. She wouldn't be there, but he would be at peace with this, and drag his emotionally weary body into his own bed.

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A week later, Rory would show up on his doorstep again. She'd hide a Yale t-shirt under the dress-suit uniform of the DAR. She'd tell him she was making amends with her mother, that she was registering for classes again, and that she had almost finished her community service. She'd thank him, and then do the leaving he was so familiar with.

A month later, things would be over with Logan. Luke would make a tacit phone call, and inform him of the news, but Jess wouldn't allow himself to develop expectations. Instead, he'd bury himself in work, in his plan, in another novel- one in which Rory would not star.

A year later, he'd stand in his new home, adjusting the rocking motion of the Atlantic Ocean. He'd feel like Hemmingway, only more satisfied with his life, yet, still uncomplete, as he began to pull up the anchor on his boat, his plan. As the boat started to drift away, however, his cell phone would ring. A fleeting thought suggested throwing it into the ocean, but the caller, ironically, convinced him otherwise. Rory would graduate in the coming weeks after taking an extra load, and summer school classes. She wanted him to be there.

He would anchor his boat for Rory. He would grab the nearest cab and temporarily abandon his plan to stop in Stars Hollow, to knock on her mother's door, and she would answer it with the phone to the land line still in her hand. He would tell her, "Congratulations," and offer her a smile. She would invite him in. He would be there for her graduation. They'd both be ready for what had so long been right in front of them.

A decade later, two children later, a wedding later, five novels between them later, they'd sail around the coast off Greece in Jess' abandoned big plan, celebrating their 5th anniversary, and they love they could finally share, simply.

A/N: Better? I hope so. Thanks to everyone who gave this story a chance initially, and especially to those who gave it a second chance!


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